


Unexpected Loyalties

by lipeviez



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Betrayal, Did I Mention Angst?, Drama, F/F, Heartbreak, Love Triangles, Reluctant Attraction, Romance, Romantic Angst, Romantic Drama, Sex, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Slow slow slow burn, angst lovers secretly like happy endings too, flirtation, romantic angsty drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2020-10-21 19:40:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 103,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20698814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lipeviez/pseuds/lipeviez
Summary: Sansa decides to be more proactive in trying to win a free North from Daenerys by forging a friendship between them. But what if false friendship leads to something more real and more complicated than Sansa ever intended?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Season 8 AU, mature themes, some elements of the season kept but mostly a self-contained what-if. Not a fix-it, not necessarily true to character, world of the television show not books (though I’ll use book details here and there). Angsty Sansa/Daenerys.
> 
> This story is inspired by another story of mine, Divided Loyalties, right now a two chapter fic over at fanfiction dot net about Sansa and Tyrion and a night they share. In it, Sansa’s thoughts allude to a supposed plan to win the North’s independence from Daenerys and I started to wonder what would happen if Sansa’s efforts to have more influence over Daenerys led to more complicated feelings between them. And here we are with a separate fic that explores that scenario. A friendly reviewer suggested I bring this story over here which is why there are multiple chapters to start. I’m not going to move the two-shot Divided Loyalties over here so it’s up to you if you want to go find it at FF. But it isn’t really necessary to read it, unless you’re interested in Sansa’s state of mind before the start of this one.

  
Image created by greenette. Thanks!

  
And this is one I've toyed with a bit. 

Chapter 1

Dawn had broken over Winterfell and among the eyes that watched the night’s goings-on of the leaders of the castle was Missandei, who made note of a disheveled Tyrion Lannister leaving the area of Sansa Stark’s private rooms. Unseen, she headed back to her queen’s rooms.

“He was where?” asked Daenerys, having just finished getting dressed in her bedchamber.

“Her rooms. Her bedchamber, I’m sure.”

“Has this been going on for a while?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. You recall what I told you of their conversation in the crypts?”

“Mmm, yes,” she answered.

“It didn’t seem like anything was happening then. In fact, it seemed as if Lady Stark was gently letting him down. But I did notice certain looks they had given each other these last several days. Perhaps love has bloomed between them after all.”

“Give Lord Tyrion time to freshen up and then tell him I require his presence.”

“Yes, your Grace,” Missandei bowed slightly and left Daenerys alone in her room.

Daenerys stared at the fireplace and thought on Missandei’s words. A marriage between her Hand and the Lady of Winterfell may prove useful. This wasn’t the first time she’d toyed with the idea ever since she’d been made aware of their prior marriage. But then again, it would also mean Tyrion’s loyalty to her, his Queen, would not be total. Perhaps Sansa Stark was using her Hand to gain advantage over her. And Tyrion, the fool, was too blinded by empathy and love to see it coming. She took a deep breath to calm her growing anger. It probably didn’t help that she and Jon Stark were still nowhere closer to an accord between them. _His damn Stark pride._

*::::*

Sansa Stark washed and dressed carefully for the day. There were many tasks ahead but the first was to get the Dragon Queen to agree to stay at Winterfell a little while longer. Not just for the northern armies to rest and gather their strength but to give Sansa more time to gain her trust. The North was at stake and some difficult choices lay ahead. In the midst of her turmoil over how to deal with her feelings for Tyrion, she had noticed that all was not right between her brother and Daenerys. Could she use that somehow to persuade Daenerys to put off the attack on King’s Landing?

She looked away as her handmaiden rearranged her bed coverings, having replaced the sheets. Last night with Tyrion had been both wonderful and eye-opening. She’d never dreamed sleeping with another person could be so pleasurable and this newfound knowledge gave her a sense of power she’d never felt before. And more than that, she toyed with the possibilities of letting a love grow with Tyrion. A loveless political marriage with a strange northern lord had seemed a certainty, if for no other reason than to secure heirs for Winterfell, but with Tyrion she didn’t have to settle for a loveless marriage and the thought was both terrifying and alluring. But Sansa pushed the thought away. That was not the future to focus on. She stood cold, still, and ready.

*::::*

Sansa calmly waited in the hallway outside of the Dragon Queen’s rooms. Without a doubt, the Targaryen’s spies would know what had transpired with Tyrion and she wanted to confront that head on. It would also give her a chance to place more doubt into the queen’s mind about her Hand and his loyalty, not because she wanted to cause Tyrion harm but because she needed Daenerys to not listen to him when it came to him warning her away from Sansa.

“Her Grace will see you now.”

Missandei’s words broke her reverie and Sansa walked slowly but confidently into the solar that was adjacent to Daenerys’s bedchamber.

Daenerys was sitting quietly, regally, in a chair in front of the hearth. An empty chair was across from her. They both regarded each other with practiced appraisal before Daenerys raised her arm to the chair, indicating that Sansa should sit. She wordlessly walked over and sat across from Daenerys.

In spite of her confidence, Sansa still did not speak. She had prepared an opening but the calmness of the Dragon Queen unnerved her. There was a hint of a smile. Sansa could tell she knew of her night with Tyrion and it seemed she was going to try to make her squirm over it. She felt the hairs rise on the nape of her neck, excited at the battle about to begin; a battle that only women in power understood.

“I trust you slept well?”

Sansa resisted the sharp intake of breath. How predictable. The Dragon Queen’s opening volley was innocent on the surface but her knowing gaze spoke otherwise. Sansa looked at Missandei standing near the door but her face betrayed nothing. She turned back to Daenerys and decided not to play coy. She would decide the rules of engagement.

“Have you spoken with Lord Tyrion this morning?” Sansa asked openly.

She could see the approval in Daenerys’s eyes. She’d made the right choice. Daenerys glanced at Missandei, to which Missandei opened the door and left, shutting the door tightly behind her. They were now alone.

“I have but not of these matters,” Daenerys answered, turning towards the fire. “I wanted to see if he would broach the subject on his own. He didn’t.”

Sansa was unable to determine whether Daenerys was angry or disappointed with Tyrion. The coil of something was there, ready to lash out. Regardless, she had to proceed as if she didn’t care.

Daenerys turned her gaze back to Sansa with a smile. There was curiosity in her countenance. Sansa looked down, contemplating her next move. Her face heated slightly but she knew she hadn’t blushed yet. A conversation of this type would help to foster Daenerys’s trust. And trust was what she needed. She looked up again, allowing a small smile of encouragement.

“So, as to my first question…” Daenerys quirked an eyebrow.

“Yes, I _slept_ very well,” Sansa replied with a small chuckle. Daenerys’s smile widened.

“Pardon my curiosity. Tyrion Lannister is my Hand and I have to be aware of his activities but it’s more than that. You see, you are the first woman I’ve known who has partaken of… his particular skills. He has been celibate for as long as I’ve known him. And from what I know of you, I know that taking a lover isn’t something you normally do so...”

“He is not my lover…” Sansa interrupted then paused, trying to think of the right words that would satisfy Daenerys’s curiosity without giving away too much of her true self. She looked toward the fire and spoke. “I am not prone to discuss details, if details are what you want to hear, but as for why it happened I will say that Lord Tyrion and I experienced something in the crypts during the Battle of Winterfell. I’m sure your advisor Missandei relayed some of what was said. And I realized that I nearly died never knowing what it was like. I wanted to know what it would feel like to have a tender night of _my_ choosing.”

Images of her second marriage flashed to her mind unbidden, along with the itch of long-healed scars. She glanced at Daenerys who sat patiently, eyes twinkling but nothing else to let Sansa know what she was thinking. Sansa didn’t want to turn this conversation to her nightmares.

“Lord Tyrion is the only man I trusted to approach with this… feeling,” she added in a feigned shyness.

She turned to Daenerys with a face that dared her to laugh or question her choice. Daenerys nodded without judgement and Sansa felt a sudden kinship with the Dragon Queen. After all, Tyrion had shared what he knew of Daenerys’s story. They had a lot more in common than not.

“And I trust he satisfied those expectations?”

Daenerys’s question seemed to set fire to the room as Sansa suddenly felt very warm. It was more than just asking if she’d had a good night. It was a question related to the very heart of her main purpose with Tyrion – to see if she could be present enough in the act to derive pleasure from another person. The question also directed her thoughts to Tyrion and what he’d done with his mouth, the memory of it making it difficult to look Daenerys in the eyes. Sansa could only nod in response and hope Daenerys would not press further.

“I’m glad you found pleasure with my Hand,” Daenerys said softly.

Sansa’s eyes widened and glanced at Daenerys’s hands and then back to the fire, her blush now certainly visible. If Daenerys had intended to throw her off balance then she succeeded because Sansa couldn’t help imagining pale slender hands on her bare shoulders, moving down her back. And instead of feeling revulsion, her body responded with a quickening heartbeat and shallow breathing. _Surely I am just embarrassed_, she told herself. When she dared look back at her, she saw Daenerys’s reddened cheeks and the realization of how her words had been interpreted. Daenerys hadn’t meant it that way at all and Sansa was mortified at her own imagination.

“I meant…” Daenerys helplessly looked for words to ease the tension. It pleased Sansa to see her discomfort. The absurdity of their misunderstanding was comical and Sansa couldn’t help the laugh that burst from her. It was a hearty laugh, something she hadn’t allowed herself to do since before her father’s death, and when Daenerys joined in with her own unguarded laughter, she was reminded of conversations with Margaery Tyrell. Not because she had laughed just as freely back then but because of the subject matter of the conversation. _Margaery would be asking for so many more details right now, _she thought with mirth. It was nice to think of Margaery and not be sad. She looked over at a smiling Daenerys and for one brief surprising moment, she wished for a real friendship with this Targaryen woman.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

When the laughter subsided, Sansa and Daenerys settled into a comfortable silence. Sansa could see Daenerys sizing her up, could feel Daenerys’s inner questioning about Sansa’s motives.

“Your Grace, my activity last night is not the only reason I wanted to speak with you. I wanted to apologize for my outburst in your war council the other day. I still wish for the northern armies to be given more rest but it was wrong of me to be so disrespectful. Jon is right. The North honors its promises.”

“Thank you, Lady Sansa. I appreciate and accept your apology.”

“And if I may, I feel like you’re not always getting the best advice from your council.”

“In what way?” Daenerys asked, eyes narrowing. Sansa had to be careful.

“I admit I know next to nothing of military strategy. But I do know the North and its people. If you want more than a begrudged loyalty, then you have to inspire it, to earn it. You did so much during the battle and no one is helping you capitalize on that so the people can know you better, so they can acknowledge what you did. Right now, you’re still an outsider, a foreigner. And I know I haven’t made it easy. I’ve been selfish and wary. Trust doesn’t come easy for me. But Jon trusts you, Lord Tyrion trusts you, would you be willing to do a little more to earn mine as well?”

“And how would you suggest I do that?”

“Come with me on my rounds overseeing the rebuilding of the keep, seeing to the smallfolk and their needs, perhaps order a portion of your armies to help with food distribution? It will help my people to see your people as more than a demonstration of fire and blood.”

Daenerys sat quietly thinking about Sansa’s words. It didn’t look as if she had been angered and Sansa took that as a good sign.

“Jon won’t like you going around him with these requests,” Daenerys wondered aloud.

“Jon Snow will do whatever you tell him to, your Grace,” Sansa answered firmly, a little anger creeping into her tone. It would look too false to follow with a smile, so Sansa smoothed her features and waited.

After a pause, during which Sansa wondered if she’d moved too far too fast, Daenerys answered, “I will think about your request and discuss it with my advisors. Is there anything else?”

“Thank you, your Grace,” Sansa said, somewhat relieved Daenerys wasn’t going to make her justify her request further and the smile she gave was an honest one. Now for the other difficult thing she had to do. Sansa had made up her mind about how to use Tyrion in her goal for the North’s independence – she decided not to use him at all; she would protect him as much as she could by giving him deniability if it all went wrong.

“And yes, there is one more thing but I am hesitant to say.”

“Please, Lady Sansa, tell me.”

“Last night Lord Tyrion made me an offer of marriage and I refused it. I have much respect and affection for your Hand,” Sansa added with a smirk, which was met with a small smile from Daenerys, “But I cannot give him what he desires and…”

“You would like me to keep him away from you while he comes to terms with your refusal?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“Why did you refuse him?” Daenerys asked pointedly. Sansa could see that she was genuinely curious.

“Perhaps that is a subject best saved for another day?” Sansa offered with a small smirk.

“Fair enough, Lady Sansa, I will hold you to it. Consider your request regarding Lord Tyrion done,” Daenerys answered, rising from her chair. Sansa rose, too, knowing she was being dismissed.

“Thank you, your Grace.”

“I will have Missandei contact you soon about your other requests.”

Sansa bowed her head and left the room.

*::::*

That night, at dinner in the Great Hall, Sansa tried and failed to maintain her usual stoicism. She observed how awkward Jon and Daenerys were next to each other. _What is happening between them?_ _What is happening to me?_

Her curiosity over Jon and his queen was overcome by a sudden awareness of all the bodies in the Great Hall. The smells, the sounds, the jawlines, the lips. And these thoughts weren’t confined to just the men. The curves and softness of the women in the room also caught her eye and she didn’t know how she felt about that. Women had never attracted her before and instead of stifling these feelings, Sansa felt cautiously curious about them. She noticed the servants flirting with the men, the men grabbing what they could. She played a small game with herself, imagining which couples would be bedding tonight, how the clothing would be removed and whether it would be a fierce grappling or a gentle coupling. Like coming of age all over again, and all the extreme emotions that go with it, Sansa found her lusts hard to control. The night with Tyrion awakened her to the possibilities. Sansa glanced at Daenerys, remembering their humorous misunderstanding, and wondered again whether it was truly embarrassment she felt earlier or something more.

Sansa turned back to her goblet and reached for it, looking again toward the people before her. Tyrion was laughing and talking with his brother and Brienne. His laughter appeared forced and she saw the sadness in his eyes. Before she could look away, he looked at her, their eyes meeting in knowledge of what they had shared the night before. He looked expectant, like he wished to ask something of her. Blood rushed to her face and heat pooled low in her belly. The desire she felt for him to bring about her body’s release was overwhelming and Sansa struggled against the temptation. Physical need is a powerful one. She brought the goblet to her lips and looked away, giving a near imperceptible shake of her head before taking a sip of her wine. His queen would try to use him against her somehow. It was better to keep him away as he was a distraction she didn’t need. Then again, she found the Dragon Queen distracting as well.

*::::*

The next day Daenerys found herself in her solar, very impatient, and arguing with a pacing Tyrion Lannister.

“You heard me, Lord Tyrion. Now calm yourself. From now on, I will treat with Lady Stark directly. You will continue to liaison with Jon Snow and his men on my behalf and you will approach her only after I’ve given permission for you to do so.”

Tyrion let out a deep breath. “Your Grace, I have only your best interest in mind. I know Lady Sansa, I know how her mind works, she has learned from the best. You cannot trust her.”

“But you trust her enough to bed her and make her an offer of marriage? Something I did not give you permission to do.”

Daenerys gave him a steely glare. The look of shock on his face was worth this whole argument. To see him properly shamed, to cower before her. She wanted to hug Sansa for giving her this.

“She told you?” he asked timidly. He shook his head as if refusing to believe it.

“Yes, she did. Yesterday morning, in fact. Oh, I had already known about your dalliance, something you failed to acknowledge yourself when I requested your presence that morning, but she came to me on her own and was very forthcoming with the rest. It is by her request that you are to stay away from her.”

“What else did she say?”

Daenerys could see his mind working it out, trying to understand Sansa’s play.

“She obviously wants to gain my trust. I already know her ambition. She has made it plain since the beginning. The North. I do appreciate her directness. She is coming at me in a full assault of womanly friendship and I will meet her on the battlefield. And you will stay out of it.”

“What do you plan to do?”

“That is not your concern. You may leave now, Lord Tyrion. I’m sure you can find more important things to do.”

Tyrion looked as if he wanted to argue the point but instead he bowed and said, “Your Grace,” and then left the room.

Missandei stepped forward and placed a hand on Daenerys’s arm.

“He’s right, you know. You cannot trust her. She has openly disliked you from the start and this change in her seems too sudden. What do you plan to do?”

“She wants me to delay the attack on King’s Landing. To give her northmen more time to rest. And I am tempted to give it to her now that she has asked more politely. But more importantly, she is giving me the opportunity to familiarize myself with her people. _My_ people. They have never looked at me as they do her or Jon. If they see Sansa friendly to me, they will follow her lead. She is backing herself into kneeling, Missandei. I will be gracious and generous, her people will see me for the benevolent ruler I promise to be. I will not be duplicitous. If she betrays me, Jon will have no choice but to punish her disobedience.”

“And if she doesn’t betray you?”

“Then hopefully I have a new friend. A powerful friend. I admit the possibility of a true friendship with Lady Stark sounds too good to be true but I want it. She is Jon’s sister. If I can win her loyalty…”

“It will bring him back to you,” Missandei nodded. Daenerys had confided only part of her friction with Jon. She had been unable to bring up the true issue of his parentage.

“It’s more than that. Sansa Stark _is_ the North. I win her and I won’t need Jon.”

Daenerys tried not to think of how weak that last phrase sounded. She meant it in terms of support from the northern lords but it came out as the spurned woman she was.

“But the trade-off, your Grace. Cersei is fortifying her defenses as we speak.”

“I know. But I’m willing to give this some time to develop if it will result in a more loyal, stronger northern army. Perhaps she is right, men need to rest. Rhaegal could also use the extra time to heal.”

“Yes, your Grace. How much additional time will you give them?”

“Three weeks. I’ll let you know if my decision changes. That means four weeks from now until we leave this place, instead of the planned one.”

“Shall I also inform Lady Stark of your decision? Or do you wish to talk to her yourself?”

Daenerys mulled this over. She was tempted to see the satisfied gleam in Sansa’s eyes herself. Those blue, piercing eyes. There was a strength in her that she admired. The North chose Jon as their king but it very well could have been Sansa. It was why Sansa was so reluctant to be subservient – she was an equal in all but title. But she’d seen something in their conversation yesterday, a respect for Daenerys that had been given begrudgingly, if only for a moment, and it pleased her to earn that respect from the icy Lady of Winterfell. But she didn’t want Sansa to know this. She had to be cautious. Daenerys shook her head.

“No, you go tell her, and tell her I will announce it in the next meeting with my war council later today. Also, tell her I’ll be ready on the morrow to join her on her rounds. Depending on how it goes, I may decide to send the majority of my armies to White Harbor to await orders. They are stressing the food stores here and it would be a sign of good faith to Lady Sansa if I relieved those stresses.”

“And will you be meeting with Jon Snow later this afternoon?”

The excitement she felt at meeting with Sansa tomorrow deflated. Jon. His looks of disgust directed at her were a result of his upbringing, she knew, but that didn’t make them cut any less. He still wanted her and he hated himself for it. And there was nothing she could do to help him move past it.

“No. I have no private meetings planned for Jon Snow for the foreseeable future. My focus is on Lady Sansa.”

“Yes, your Grace. And… if I may ask, what are your thoughts on Lord Tyrion?”

Daenerys’s face darkened. “I will need time to think on that, Missandei. Now, I will see you later. Be sure to note exactly how Lady Sansa reacts to my decision.”

After Missandei left the room, Daenerys went to the chair by the fire and sat down, thinking about Tyrion Lannister. Her Hand proposed marriage to a highborn lady of one of the most formidable houses in Westeros, without her permission. It meant he loved her. He likely confided things to her. Things he shouldn’t have shared. After all of his prior mistakes, she was leaning more and more towards relieving him of his position as her Hand. _Her hand_, she thought, looking down at her hands with a smile. If she didn’t know better she would’ve sworn that Sansa Stark had imagined them on her body. The thought of seducing her wasn’t unpleasant but she pushed it away and Daenerys laughed to herself at the impossibility of it. _Lady Sansa of House Stark would never_.

She thought again of how Sansa looked last night in the Great Hall. She was normally so reserved, so cold. Last night she’d seen the sheen of sweat on her brow, the shallow breathing. Sansa looked on edge and she kept looking at everyone. _Even towards me_. Daenerys also saw the rejection Sansa gave Tyrion. How his face fell and she took a twisted pleasure in his disappointment. She wasn’t the only one being denied a warm bed by a Stark, even if her Stark was also a Targaryen. Daenerys’s anger returned as she wondered when Jon would tell his family. All of her begging couldn’t convince him not to. She wondered if Sansa would acknowledge it at all before stabbing her in the back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even though I don’t really consider this fic a season 8 fix-it, I just wanted to put it out there that there will be no Mad Queen in this story and D&D (and by extension GRRM) can go suck eggs. Okay? Okay.
> 
> Also, this is going to be a mostly slow-burn angsty Sansa/Daenerys tale. Lots of reluctant attraction and flirtation. That may not be everyone’s cup of tea but romantic angst is so much more fun for me. There’s just something deliciously sad from seeing characters too afraid to act or be thwarted by bad timing and circumstances. Just hints for you all that this may not wrap up in a happy bow. Angst lovers will still have fun with it, though.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Given how much of Daenerys’s time was spent in her rooms here at Winterfell, Sansa had expected to be kept waiting by the Dragon Queen but not this long. She herself had broken fast earlier in the morning and had already toured the keep. She was now waiting in the yard with Brienne and Podrick. Despite the impatience she felt, there was also the worry in the back of her mind that Daenerys was working her. It seemed too easy to have asked for more time for the northmen and for these shared rounds, and to be given them without too much delay. It was like she had stepped into a trap of the Targaryen’s making instead of the other way around.

“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, Lady Sansa,” Daenerys called out, walking to her briskly followed by Missandei and four of her Unsullied, Grey Worm and three other men whose names Sansa did not know.

“It is no problem at all, your Grace. It was a nice rest after touring the keep,” Sansa answered, the lilt of her voice friendly but her eyes holding their coldness. The nod which Daenerys gave in reply acknowledged the jab.

“Shall we to Winter town then?” asked Daenerys. Sansa nodded and the nine of them made their way to the gate. The plan was to go out through the gate and walk to the town, show Daenerys around the marketplace, then head towards the edges of the town where the smallfolk lived or sheltered during the winter. Many of the northern soldiers were lodged in these small houses, too, rather than in the tents that Daenerys’s armies had set up around the western and southern edges of the castle. There were less of these tents now than before the battle, however. Daenerys had lost many soldiers and Dothraki.

They were silent at first, Sansa trying out various topics of conversation in her mind and not being satisfied with any. She wanted to be calm but being kept waiting had indeed annoyed her. Walking past the tents of Daenerys’s soldiers was also unnerving. Not even the beauty of the cold winter sky could relax her.

“Permit me to set your mind at ease, Lady Sansa. I was not late on purpose. A raven had arrived and I had to attend to the message before meeting with you.”

Sansa turned her head to Daenerys expectantly. Her curiosity was piqued but she didn’t want to seem like she was prying too much into the Dragon Queen’s affairs.

“Scouts’ reports show that Cersei is building more of those machines that shoot large bolts at my dragons. Scorpions, they’re called. They will be mounted on the city’s walls, I expect.”

“Have you readjusted your timeframe then? Are you to take away those three weeks from our armies?”

“No, even if we left now, those machines would be built and ready. She has the Golden Company, the Lannister army and Greyjoy’s fleet. But it won’t be enough. I think we can let her wait in her fear for a bit longer,” Daenerys answered grimly.

Sansa could see that Daenerys was still concerned in spite of her words. Today’s visit to Winter town needed to be a positive one for the Dragon Queen. She’d already planned one particular family to directly approach. They didn’t know Daenerys was coming, though, to allow for uncoached responses. She trusted her people to be fair, though wary. If Daenerys was honest and forthcoming with them, they would appreciate it and let her know they did.

“My Lady,” Brienne came up alongside them as they entered the town and were now in the marketplace area. “Perhaps Grey Worm and I should lead the way with the rest behind. We do not know how the people will respond to seeing her Grace amongst them.”

Sansa was about to agree but Daenerys spoke first.

“That is all right, Ser Brienne. I will not be afraid of Lady Sansa’s people. A respectable distance behind us should be enough?” Daenerys directed this last part to Sansa, to which she nodded.

One wouldn’t have expected a bustling marketplace in the middle of winter, and after losing so much in the fight against the dead, but various sellers and a few stalls were doing what they could. It made Sansa proud; her people endured. At various spots Sansa would describe certain scenes of her youth, coming here with her parents as they instilled in her a duty to those less fortunate, lessons she didn’t appreciate at the time but was now grateful for. Or fights with Arya and her brothers. Daenerys listened intently, smiling where appropriate and asking questions which opened Sansa further. It seemed the more time they spent in Winter town, the more time they spent talking and smiling with each other. Sansa could see that instead of distrust on the faces of the shopowners and sellers in their stalls, there was now curiosity; curiosity about the interactions of their Lady of Winterfell and this foreign queen.

As they walked through the narrow, muddy streets, to the small houses on the outskirts, Sansa closely watched Daenerys’s face, looking for signs of disgust or distress. But Daenerys kept herself pleasant. Missandei stayed silent most of the time, hanging back with Grey Worm. Some of the people they passed rushed inside their houses. Others stared openly. Sansa could see the surprise on some as they saw her walking beside the Targaryen. Sansa would greet as many of them as she could, the way she always did. Those brave enough to speak in turn earned an introduction to Daenerys, who spoke warmly but didn’t push them with questions or promises. The children were the bravest, asking Daenerys questions about where she came from and they were delighted with her forthright descriptions and even the occasional story. Missandei would also find herself cornered by children eager to hear about faraway lands. To the adults, Daenerys didn’t offer bright smiles and Sansa was impressed. Bright smiles from a stranger would’ve been instantly distrusted, her people closing off to the Dragon Queen completely. The whole visit was going better than Sansa expected and she was convinced that Daenerys wouldn’t hesitate to come again. Then Sansa spotted the family she had wanted Daenerys to meet. The dark-haired boy playing outside in the dirty snow was unmistakable. His face lit up when he saw her.

“Lady Sansa!” he cried, getting up and running to her. Sansa couldn’t resist the embrace she knew he wanted to give her so she bent down with her arms open waiting for him. He was four years old and one of the most adorable children she’d ever met. When he let go, he turned to face Daenerys with a shy smile.

“Falon, I’d like you to meet Queen Daenerys,” Sansa said to the boy. “Your Grace, this is my friend, Falon.” She looked up and spotted the boy’s mother Ada smiling and waved to her in greeting.

“Hello, Falon, it is very nice to meet you,” said Daenerys, crouching down so that she could be on his level.

“Are you the one who rides the dragons?” asked Falon.

“Yes, I am,” Daenerys laughed. “Do you like dragons?”

“I do. I want to ride on one when I grow up. Will you let me?”

“When you grow up, it would be my honor, little Falon.”

He stuck out his hand and Daenerys graciously took it. She walked over with him to his mother and Sansa watched the three of them talk for a little while. Ada was wary at first but she soon relaxed and Sansa smiled when it seemed as if the three of them would be talking the rest of the day.

“Your Grace, I think it’s time we head back to the castle,” Sansa said reluctantly.

“Of course, Lady Sansa. It was very nice meeting the both of you. I hope to see you again soon.”

Falon pulled at Daenerys’s skirts so she bent down again and he whispered in her ear. Sansa could just barely make it out.

“I like you. You’re not scary at all.” At that, the boy bounded away into his house.

Daenerys and Sansa shared a laugh. She could see some of the tears that had formed in Daenerys’s eyes but a few blinks later and they were gone. Sansa saw her exchange a look with Missandei but she wasn’t sure what it meant. They began walking back through the town towards Winterfell.

“Falon and his mother Ada are tenant farmers. His father and two older brothers were killed by the Boltons, their home burnt. The Boltons did that to several farming families they felt did not show enough respect to their rule. Falon and Ada somehow survived and after we retook Winterfell, I met them here. I don’t know what I would’ve done if they had died in the crypts. Falon reminds me of who I’m fighting for. He’s made me promise to rebuild their farm. And I will. But this winter is harsh and there hasn’t been time to use men needed here to go out to rebuild farmhouses. And even if we could rebuild now, it’s still safer for them to wait out the winter here.”

“My men don’t know how to build homes made of wood and stone that are strong enough to shelter against this winter. But if you do decide to rebuild while we’re here, please, take who you need and give that boy his home. That goes for the other farming families you mentioned as well. And if not during the winter, then in the spring let me know what the North needs to help these families reestablish themselves.”

Sansa nodded in thanks, knowing spring was a long time away and much could happen in the meantime. _Much _is_ going to happen_, Sansa thought, but then brushed those darker thoughts away.

Neither of them said much on the walk back to Winterfell. Sansa thought again about how easily Daenerys had handled herself with her people and she was surprised at how easy it was to share some of her childhood memories. Sansa had actually enjoyed herself but it was clear now something had happened to dampen Daenerys’s good humor.

After they walked through the gate, Sansa stopped and turned to Daenerys.

“Are you unwell, your Grace? Is there anything the matter?”

“I am well, Lady Sansa, thank you. I was just reminded of some things that I try not to think about. It is nothing. Thank you very much for allowing me to accompany you this morning. If you’ll excuse me, I have some other things to attend to.”

Daenerys walked away with her people, leaving Sansa confused about what had happened.

*::::*

After the midday meal, Sansa walked to the Godswood to think more about the morning with Daenerys. She’d not been in the Great Hall and Sansa was worried if she’d offended her in some way and ruined the small steps she’d been making to ingratiate herself to the Dragon Queen. She was without her gloves and cloak so she knew she couldn’t stay long but the cold was bracing. It helped her think.

Approaching the weirwood tree, she saw a lone figure, looking small and white against the snow. This was the first time she’d seen Daenerys in the Godswood. Sansa saw Daenerys’s head turn slightly at her approach but she didn’t slow down. This was her home and she would stand before the heart tree if she wanted to.

“It is very beautiful here. And peaceful,” said Daenerys, as Sansa stood alongside her.

“Yes, it is,” Sansa answered. They stayed silent for several minutes.

“Lady Sansa, I wanted to apologize for my ill humor earlier. You’ve done nothing wrong. Painful memories overtook me. That boy… I might have had a son about that age. He died while I still carried him. Rhaego. I’m sure Lord Tyrion has told you some of that story.”

Sansa nodded. She’d indeed heard the story of the deaths of Daenerys’s Dothraki husband and unborn child brought about by a witch.

“And now my dragons are all the children I will ever have. That must seem odd to you, Jon has probably tried to explain it his own clumsy way. I did not grow them in my body but they are alive through fire by me and I love them. They are not my companions, they are my children. And yet… that boy… I will never know motherhood the way his mother does.”

Sansa didn’t know what to say. So she just stood there next to Daenerys thinking about what she would’ve done in her place. How devastating that loss must have been. Before she let sympathy overcome her resolve, Sansa reminded herself that even Cersei loved her children. That didn’t make Cersei a good person.

“Jon is clumsy with these kinds of things, isn’t he?” Sansa said, trying to lighten the mood.

Daenerys laughed and turned to Sansa. “Yes, he is.”

“I didn’t get a chance earlier but I wanted to thank you for accompanying me this morning. I was impressed with how well you handled the conditions there.”

“Do you think I don’t know what it’s like to struggle for food and shelter?”

“That’s not what I meant, your Grace…”

“Didn’t Lord Tyrion tell you about how my brother and I had to live on the streets for a time as children, scavenging and begging? No home to call our own. No mother and father to wipe our tears and soothe away the nightmares. I know what it is to starve. I know what it is to see the entitled and the wealthy take advantage of the less fortunate. Do you know what it’s like to have a childhood like that, Lady Stark?”

“No, I do not,” Sansa answered coldly. She was being chided and Daenerys’s rising anger made her feel defensive. “I also don’t understand what it’s like to fixate on something that would never have been yours to begin with. Your brother was so focused on the Iron Throne he abused and sold off his own sister for an army. And now you are similarly focused. How far are you willing to go, what or _who_ are you willing to sacrifice for that bloody throne?”

Daenerys’s eyes narrowed. Sansa knew she had touched a sensitive nerve and a part of her regretted provoking her. The plan was to make friends, not cross words as enemies. But her anger refused to let her back down so she just glared down at her.

“I think you know exactly how I feel, Lady Sansa. For all your dislike and distrust of me, you know exactly how it feels to want revenge for your family against their betrayers and enemies. How it feels to see your home taken away, the children of your family hunted and killed, to find yourself at the mercy of evil men who would use you, rape you, marry you off as goods in exchange for money or men. Would you have found it in your mercy to forgive Theon Greyjoy if he had really killed Bran and Rickon, or would you have hated him forever? When you were finally free from the Boltons, did you keep running or did you turn around, raise an army, and take back your home, the home that was rightfully yours? As justice for his crimes against you and your family, did you give your lord husband a quick death or did you watch him die a slow and painful one? Oh yes, Lady Sansa, I can perfectly imagine the things you would be capable of if you were in my place.”

Stunned, Sansa could only retort, “You’ve burned prisoners alive!”

Sansa felt like a child for throwing the Tarlys in Daenerys’s face like that but she was so mad she couldn’t think straight. She was rewarded with a flinch on Daenerys’s face but for only a split second.

“And you had your prisoner eaten alive by his own hounds!” Daenerys responded, approaching closer to Sansa. “I heard you stayed to watch. Did you enjoy watching? Was it justice you felt or did you get some other sort of satisfaction from it?”

Sansa didn’t know where Daenerys was going with this but the fury she felt growing within her was getting harder and harder to control.

“Just between us, did you feel aroused while you watched him suffer? Does your family know what a sadistic bitch you really are?”

Sansa heard the slap before she felt the sting in her hand. She hadn’t put all her strength into it but she knew it hurt. Daenerys had gasped but she did not raise a hand to rub her injured cheek. Her eyes glared at her and Sansa thought she would receive a slap in return, or worse, but Daenerys just walked away.

Alone in the Godswood, Sansa was shocked by her own actions, her anger at Daenerys now directed at herself. The insult about Ramsay served no purpose other than to provoke her and instead of withstanding the onslaught, she lowered herself by letting it get to her. The rest of what Daenerys said however… it was exactly what made Sansa afraid of the Dragon Queen. Not because Daenerys was a Targaryen and she was a Stark but because Sansa understood her motivations so well; she understood that drive for justice and revenge. What would she do if she knew the Iron Throne belonged to her family and she had dragons at her disposal? What would she do to those who stood in her way? She thought of her own plan with Daenerys and was unsettled by the thought that her actions for a free North might be considered worse. Sansa brushed those thoughts away and glanced down at her hand, still feeling the sting of skin striking skin. It had felt good. Too good.

She had to smooth things over with Daenerys. Their animosity was out in the open but it could also be the way to deepen the friendship. Forgiveness has a way of strengthening that bond. The same could happen here. She would need to apologize but she would have to do so without losing Daenerys’s respect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taking some creative license here with the location and layout of the winter town; references from the books and show were used but my priority was making it work for my fic. More specifically, I wanted the town in close proximity to Winterfell, putting it within easy walking distance, but not right outside the gate. So let’s say a half mile south of the south gate.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning that there are references to rape in this chapter

Chapter 4

Daenerys was only a little late for the dinner meal. She almost didn’t go at all but after she ranted about the infuriating Lady Sansa, omitting the part about the slap she’d received, Missandei reminded her that she needed to be seen as often as possible. Hiding away would be seen as weakness. Jon had bent the knee and the North was hers. She had to act like the Queen she was.

When she walked into the Great Hall she didn’t look at all at Sansa. She gave greetings to Tyrion and some of the men near her, and then went to the high table where Jon was standing. His eyes glowed with that same conflicted love and Daenerys turned away from him lest she lost her temper again.

“Are you all right?” he whispered, after she sat down.

“Yes. Please, let’s just eat,” she replied coldly.

The dinner went similarly to previous dinners. Men talking loudly, boastful and conceited. Women smiling in deference. The more she watched the more she was disgusted but not by the people. She was disgusted with herself at not finding it within her to connect with these people without the help of others. Tyrion wanted time with his brother and did nothing to help her. Jon was hopeless with these sorts of political interactions and did no better. She thought earlier of how Sansa had shown her around Winter town, giving the smallfolk a chance to know her a bit better. It had been the best morning she’d had in a long time. But then they had quarreled. Daenerys shook her head. It had been more than a quarrel.

Holding her goblet, she risked a glance toward Sansa. She looked more dour than usual, if that was possible. Taking a sip of her wine, she thought again of how Sansa had struck her. By all rights, Sansa should be in the dungeon for assaulting her queen. But Daenerys would get no satisfaction from that. Sansa hadn’t intended to start an argument; Daenerys’s own insecurity had gotten the better of her. She’d lost her temper and escalated, provoking Sansa when she should’ve shown patience. There were also other things to consider, like the loyalty of the North. Any small gains she’d made in proving herself to these people would be lost if she imprisoned their Lady. But the way Sansa had looked down at her, fury had bubbled up within Daenerys before she even had a chance to think. Something about that woman got to her like no other. A smile and she felt victorious, a slight and it sent her reeling.

She must have gotten lost in her thoughts for suddenly Sansa was beside her in Jon’s chair and she hadn’t noticed her approach. Daenerys looked around and saw Jon conversing with that wildling he liked so much. She placed her goblet back on the table and turned to Sansa.

“Excuse me, your Grace, but might I have a private word with you after the meal?”

_A private word_. It would be better to clear the air tonight before letting their anger fester any longer. And Daenerys felt obligated to give them this chance to start over. It had been a refreshing morning after all and there could be more like it if they made amends.

“Yes, of course,” she replied stiffly. “Come to my solar in an hour.”

“Thank you, your Grace,” Sansa said quietly, and stood up, walking back to her own chair. Daenerys noticed Sansa’s food had hardly been touched. It pleased her a bit to see Sansa was bothered as much by today as she was.

Daenerys rose from her chair and walked to Missandei.

“Please give my excuses. Lady Sansa will be coming to my solar in an hour and I’m leaving to gather my thoughts.”

With one more glance at the hall, Daenerys left, with Grey Worm behind her.

*::::*

Sansa watched Daenerys speak to Missandei and then leave the Great Hall. She turned back to her food but was not hungry. She kept going over in her mind what had occurred earlier. It had happened so quickly and without warning. They were both to blame and she was going to do her best to mitigate the damage with Daenerys later tonight but something about their argument continued to bother her. It wasn’t what Daenerys had said, it was how Daenerys had looked at her. Sansa thought she didn’t really care what the Dragon Queen thought of her, and this whole endeavor to sow trust between them was just a charade, but knowing Daenerys was angry at her gnawed at her just the same. _Why should I care that she’s angry with me? I’m not really her friend._

“Heartsick?”

“What?” Sansa looked up and saw Arya beside her.

“I’m used to seeing you look cold and unhappy but I know it’s just your shield. Except right now. Right now I think you actually _are_ unhappy. Has something happened with the queen? I know you went to Winter town together.”

“A small quarrel, nothing more.”

“A quarrel with the queen is not nothing, Sansa. Should I be concerned? Do you need my help with anything?”

Her tone was nonchalant but Arya’s expression was like steel, as usual, and Sansa could tell that Arya was worried. There were too many people around right now to speak openly with Arya about what she was doing with Daenerys. Sansa didn’t even know how Arya would react. She decided to stay with her original intention to wait until the right moment to tell her.

“No. I will let you know when circumstances require your attention.”

Arya nodded and walked away without another word. _She’ll understand, I’m sure of it_, Sansa assured herself.

Now wasn’t the time to question her choice. She needed to prepare for her meeting with Daenerys.

*::::*

Daenerys sat in front of the fire in her solar, taking occasional sips of her wine. The fire was comforting. The flickering flames moving in such random ways, but the burning of wood into ash was predictable all the same. _The fire devours its food_.

There was a short knock on the door before it opened, Grey Worm allowing Sansa to enter. Daenerys did not look but she knew Sansa stood by the door waiting for acknowledgment. When she did not receive any, Sansa came over to stand by the empty chair beside her own. Again, Daenerys would not look at her. It was a game and she was antagonizing her but Daenerys liked wondering how Sansa would respond. Would she stomp off like a child or would she have something biting to say? _Or will Sansa surprise me with something else altogether?_

At last Sansa sat down and joined her in staring at the fire. Daenerys was quite enjoying this and hoped Sansa wouldn’t ruin it with effusive apologies. Daenerys would despise her for it. The thought of it made her realize how much respect she had for this proud Lady of Winterfell.

“Your Grace… I must apologize for losing my temper earlier. Words were said that I regret.”

It was stated simply and Daenerys was glad that Sansa had bowed but she hadn’t bowed so low as to demean herself.

“Not just words, Lady Sansa,” Daenerys replied. Sansa turned quickly to her and her features showed surprise at Daenerys’s smile. The tension left Sansa and she gave a curt nod in response. Daenerys knew they had navigated the opening of this conversation well so far, neither one of them losing face.

“I, too, apologize for earlier. The things that I said were vulgar and insulting. Anyone would have lost their temper at such words.” Daenerys sincerely meant the apology and hoped Sansa would accept it.

“Joffrey said vulgar and insulting things to me all the time. I wish I could have hit him again and again but I controlled myself. I don’t know why I let my hand fly today.”

Daenerys was surprised by that admission and didn’t know what to say. She could see that Sansa did not look defiant. She was looking inward, thinking of something.

“You were terrified for your life back then. Many things are out of our control. Women tend to be at the mercy of men’s anger and lust. We take control where we can and in a way I suppose it means part of you trusted that I wouldn’t retaliate against you the way he would have,” Daenerys said kindly. _Or maybe you don’t fear death the way you once did._

Sansa said nothing and Daenerys began to think again of how similar their paths had been. She heard the warnings from Tyrion and Missandei in her head but she wanted to trust Sansa. Deciding to listen to her instincts, Daenerys confided something to Sansa.

“You were right before, Lady Sansa. My brother did sell me in marriage. And my strange Dothraki husband was powerful and frightening to the young innocent girl that I was. After we wed, I was scared… I didn’t want to… he didn’t do it out of anger or an intention to hurt me but I still cried as he bent me over and took me.” Daenerys took a large drink of her wine, finishing it, and forced herself to continue. She preferred to remember the happier times with Drogo but that did not take away the pain of those earlier traumas.

“I did not speak his language and he did not speak mine and I had no say or control over anything. It was the Dothraki way and he was now my husband. My body was his. I was fortunate that we learned to love each other. I learned his language and my confidence grew.”

Daenerys stood up and went to the table to refill her goblet. She offered wine to Sansa but she declined. She sat back down to stare again at the fire, waiting to see how Sansa would respond to such details of her life.

“I did not know that’s how it was for you. I wasn’t married to Joffrey but he still tortured me. He had me physically punished in court, in front of everyone. And Tyrion never touched me but Ramsay… Ramsay did.”

Sansa stood up, seemingly coming to a decision about something. She turned to Daenerys and spoke again.

“I should’ve refused to marry him but I was afraid. Lord Baelish convinced me that I was to take control of Winterfell from within. How could I say no to the opportunity to live in my home again?”

Daenerys was alarmed when she saw Sansa slowly begin to work on the ties and buttons of her dress. _What is she doing?_

“He brutally raped me and made Theon stay in the room to watch. He ripped the back of my wedding dress and…” Sansa closed her eyes and held her fingers still. When she opened them again, she continued with the ties and clasps. “It only got worse on the nights thereafter. He beat me, cut me, made me bleed. When I finally knew that I’d rather be dead than stay, I escaped.”

Daenerys stood up in shock when Sansa opened the back of her dress at the collar and pulled it and the shift underneath open just enough for Daenerys to see her shoulders. When Sansa pulled her hair to the side, Daenerys understood what Sansa wanted her to see. There was no noise but the crackling logs in the hearth and her footsteps as she walked over to stand behind Sansa.

The shadows and firelight played on her back but there was no mistaking the scars on Sansa’s pale skin. Some still red and angry though all quite healed.

“May I?” Daenerys asked. She didn’t know why but the heart pounding in her chest made her want to touch Sansa. Was it morbid curiosity or was she under some other spell?

At Sansa’s nod, she touched with one finger then three just below the nape of Sansa’s neck. Sansa was trembling as Daenerys slowly traced her fingers down to the top of her dress, which had been lowered to the middle of her back. She was momentarily tempted to pull it down even lower, to see how far down the scars went. The heat Daenerys felt was unmistakable. But it would be an intrusion, a twisting of a vulnerable moment into something Sansa hadn’t intended. She had not been permitted further intimacies and would not take without asking. And she ignored the impulse to ask.

Daenerys released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and took away her hand. Sansa pulled the dress back into place and began working the ties and Daenerys instinctively began helping. When her fingers would touch those of Sansa’s she felt guilty at how warm it made her feel and it confused her. She walked back to her chair, picked up the goblet she’d left on the floor, and looked away as Sansa sat down. If Daenerys had regretted her earlier words in the Godswood, she felt deeply ashamed of them now and recognized that she’d truly deserved that slap from Sansa. A rage built within her; a rage that made her want to burn all of this woman’s enemies. _Am I one of them?_

“Your Grace, I don’t… really know why I did that. I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

“No, it is fine... I knew and yet I didn’t know. Dragon fire would’ve indeed been too quick a death for that man.” Daenerys was staring into the fire when she spoke but when she turned to face her, Sansa looked into her eyes and gave a small nod. Nothing more needed to be said; no words of sympathy or apologies. The solidarity of their experiences was all the understanding that was required. She turned back to the fire, satisfied that they were back on friendly footing but the warmth that lingered in her fingers worried her. Were they building trust or something else? 

*::::*

Sansa didn’t stay much longer in Daenerys’s solar. She was confused and embarrassed at how much she’d revealed. No one else alive had seen but her handmaidens, the maesters, and Tyrion, and him only recently. Bran probably did but he knew through his sight, not because she’d confided in him. There was no reason to show her family at all; it would’ve been too hard on Arya and Jon to see firsthand what Ramsay had done to her. But there was something about Daenerys that compelled her to share.

The intention had been to smooth things over, to reset the game pieces so to speak. Daenerys’s story about the beginnings of her Dothraki marriage had been unexpected and she felt a deep connection to it. What came over her next, she’ll never know. Their apologies had been offered and accepted and she could’ve left the room knowing they would be able to start over. Maybe she wanted to further shame Daenerys for her earlier words, maybe she had made a cold calculation as to how to gain the Dragon Queen’s sympathies, or maybe she just needed someone to know and understand her.

Tyrion had been sympathetic when she shared her experiences with him but she’d been unprepared for his pain and guilt, as if he should’ve been able to protect her, and for some unknown reason this irritated her. She did not make her crossness known to him, however. It was pointless because he could never truly understand. Daenerys would and did. And when she touched her back, the intimacy of it was unexpectedly sensual and Sansa couldn’t stop her trembling. She half expected Daenerys to pull down her dress and Sansa nearly invited her to do so, her hands gripping the front of her dress in anticipation. But then the moment ended and Sansa was saved from making a terrible mistake. It was not what she had intended to happen anyway, was it? She hadn’t imagined hands on her back one day and thought of a way to entice Daenerys to do just that the next day? _Certainly not_.

Entering her bedchamber, Sansa undressed and walked to a mirror. She stared at the woman reflected back at her. There was beauty but also a cold harshness. Much of the last several years had been about keeping her emotions in check, and hiding her thoughts, that it became second nature to her. Control is what saved her in King’s Landing, helped her navigate through Littlefinger’s machinations, and gave her the strength to withstand Ramsay long enough to escape. Control is what she needed now, except around Daenerys her control was slipping.

_This is harder than I thought it would be_, Sansa thought to herself. Gaining trust meant giving trust and she was giving more than she should, opening herself up in ways that she didn’t understand. But more than that was her surprise at how Daenerys opened up to her, as if Daenerys was determined not to hold back. Surely Daenerys had been warned by her advisors. Varys had to be whispering in her ear about how Sansa was using her. Tyrion and Missandei, too. If she was one of Daenerys’s advisors, she’d be doing all in her power to keep Daenerys away from her. They knew her desire for an independent North but they hadn’t the faintest clue about how far Sansa was willing to go which made Sansa a risk their queen couldn’t afford. _Does she truly think we can be friends?_ Again, she mentally crafted messages to the Vale and others that would convince them to join her cause. But she kept being distracted by the memory of gentle fingers against her back. She’d enjoyed Daenerys’s hand more than she cared to admit.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Sansa did her rounds the next morning without Daenerys's company. Missandei had passed on her apologies and Sansa was relieved. After what she had shared yesterday, both in words and display, she was glad to have more time to get over her embarrassment. That's what she preferred to call it. Anything else was absurd. But before Missandei left to return to her queen, Sansa took the opportunity to ask for more details of Daenerys's accomplishments in the east. She'd heard it from Tyrion and Jon but it all seemed like so much propaganda for a Dragon Queen whose purpose was to conquer with force, obliterating all in her path. That was all Sansa had allowed herself to see. This time she had listened to Missandei with keener interest.

Having interacted with Daenerys herself, Sansa saw that she had a strong sense of justice. Daenerys's conversations with the children in Winter town showed a kind woman who didn't shy away from blunt questioning, and she was a person who wasn't used to close friendships but was fiercely loyal to those friends she had. Sansa recalled what Jon had said, that Daenerys had pledged her support to fight the dead before he had bent the knee. At the time, she thought that Daenerys had made that decision as a calculation to eventually win Jon's trust. But now she wasn't so sure. These last few days had upended many of her preconceptions. _Don't doubt yourself, Sansa_, she scolded herself. _She is a Targaryen, the Mad King's daughter._ _The North is what matters._

She saw Daenerys in the Great Hall during the day, sitting silently while she and Jon received petitioners, but they had exchanged no words, just polite nods. Daenerys excused herself early, though, leaving her and Jon to finish the day's work. Sansa tried to focus on her people but her thoughts kept dragging themselves back to Daenerys's solar and she eventually apologized to Jon, excusing herself to take a walk outside in hopes that the cold air would help her out of this confusion. _If Daenerys knew what I felt when she touched me..._

Walking alone through the various courtyards, Sansa lost track of time as she thought over the best way to approach Daenerys without arousing further awkwardness between them.

"Sansa."

Looking up, she saw her sister Arya approach.

"Stop daydreaming, dear sister. We need to meet in the Godswood. Jon wants to speak with us."

*::::*

Sitting in the Great Hall while Jon and Sansa dealt with supplicants and petitioners, Daenerys reflected on recent events. She had discussed with Missandei most of what had happened with Sansa except for the part about being slapped or that Sansa had revealed her scars. If she had then she would've had to explain why she hadn't punished Sansa and what she had felt when she brought her fingers to Sansa's skin. Missandei would've listened without judgement but for reasons she wasn't able to fully comprehend, those details seemed too revealing. She was still ashamed at how she had spoken to Sansa but the other thing, the softness she couldn't stop thinking about, she wasn't ready to acknowledge those things out loud. So she told Missandei that after that day she needed time to think about the best way to engage with Lady Sansa, which was the truth.

Friendship had been the bait that Sansa had dangled when she first proposed taking those excursions together. And Daenerys was fully prepared to parry Sansa's iciness and false friendship with efforts to prove herself worthy of the North's loyalty, if not to Sansa then to her people. But she hadn't been prepared for how personal Sansa would get or how much she herself would share. It had happened so quickly and Daenerys was certain that Sansa was also surprised with how easily they fell into confidences. _These are things true friends share, are they not?_ she asked herself. _But when she bared herself to me that was very unusual._ If insight and understanding were what Sansa had wanted Daenerys to have, words would have been enough. There was a seductive element to Sansa's actions and Daenerys's touch revealed to herself and maybe even to Sansa that she wasn't immune to those actions. A calculating woman would try to exploit that to gain the upper hand. _But is she that calculating? Is she even aware of the undercurrent of what occurred in that moment?_ Daenerys couldn't be sure. But it meant that she would need to be even more on her guard around Sansa Stark.

_I can't avoid her forever, though. I gave her these three weeks; I need to use them to my advantage._ Daenerys stood up and excused herself. She needed to tell Missandei that she would join Sansa the next day. She also needed to talk to her Hand to announce the departure of a portion of her armies.

*::::*

Daenerys found Tyrion alone in the War Room. She glanced at the table with the map of Westeros on it and wondered what Tyrion was up to. He was sitting at a smaller table off to the side, writing.

"Good day, your Grace. I trust your outing yesterday with Lady Stark went well?" Tyrion inquired without looking up from his writing.

She smiled down at him, knowing how much his curiosity would be torturing him. Daenerys was tempted to ignore the question altogether but decided to be cordial instead. Another argument with her Hand was the last thing she needed. She moved a chair to his table and sat down, watching him, appraising him. He was remarkable in his own way; she'd long thought so. But now she tried to look at him the way Sansa looked at him. Her former husband, a very recent lover. Daenerys felt the slightest twinge of jealousy and the oddness of it made her uncomfortable. It only lasted a moment but as she looked at Tyrion the word 'rival' came to mind and she exhaled sharply, making Tyrion look up from his writing.

"Your Grace?"

"My apologies. I was lost in thought. Yes, it went very well. In fact, I hope to return to Winter town with her within the next few days."

"And do you think you'll be able to win a declaration from Lady Stark before we depart? The Vale fights with the North and is committed to defeat Cersei but I'd feel more comfortable for the safety of all involved if she declared for you."

"It's only been a couple of days, Lord Tyrion," Daenerys answered with a tired sigh. "I will say only that things with Sansa are developing."

Tyrion scrutinized her with a gaze that implied he was debating whether to press further and it was then Daenerys realized she'd referred to Sansa informally. In the end he went back to his writing.

"The reason I sought you out today is because I've decided to send a portion of my armies away to White Harbor. We didn't bring enough food with us here and it's a strain I no longer wish to put on Winterfell."

Putting down his quill, Tyrion thought over what she'd just told him.

"This is a good idea. I will speak with Jon and ask him to write to Lord Manderly explaining the situation and to prepare for our army. And if I may suggest, we should send for food supplies from Dragonstone and Meereen to help restore Winterfell's supplies; maybe even supply White Harbor so that Manderly doesn't feel too put upon. Even if the shipments don't arrive for another moon or two or three, Lady Stark and the rest will be appreciative of our thoughtfulness."

Daenerys smiled, pleased with this suggestion, knowing that it'll surprise Sansa. When Tyrion went back to his writing again, she became curious.

"What are you working on, Lord Tyrion?"

"Ah, is my Queen suddenly curious about what her Hand has been up to in order to make her conquest of the Iron Throne go as smoothly as possible?"

Daenerys ignored the sarcasm and sat patiently.

He sighed and finally put away the quill. Tyrion straightened in his seat which Daenerys interpreted to mean she should pay close attention and be on her guard for any omissions of details on his part.

"Since your Grace has decided to prolong our stay here, I've decided to use the time to write to the various houses, bolstering and seeking support. Also, Cersei has been spreading lies about your intentions to burn everyone but we have the time now to combat that. I want to ask Jon to send runners south, men he trusts to spread the word with firsthand knowledge of what happened here and how you fought with the North to save the living. It might be useless and they may be killed before they're able to go deep into the Westerlands and the Reach but seeing real northmen tell their stories might do better than just sending ravens."

She gave a nod and he continued, no longer the cynical man drowning in wine but a man in service of his queen. Daenerys listened as he spoke of messages he planned to send to Dorne and Yara Greyjoy. Tyrion thought that since the new Prince of Dorne had pledged support, he wanted to ask the Dornishmen to see what they could do to block southern supply routes to King's Landing. And apparently Yara had given word that she would depart the Iron Islands shortly with a small fleet to help in a blockade of Blackwater Bay. The delay in the march on King's Landing gave her time to arrive either just before the formal siege began or in the beginning days. Daenerys was very pleased with this news. She told Tyrion it was imperative they stay updated on Euron Greyjoy's fleet movements. He agreed.

Tyrion also wanted to contact the Baratheon bannermen to inform them of Lord Gendry's legitimization and ask for their help with either men or in blocking supplies from their lands. Varys had also walked in and listened to the discussion of whether to send Gendry to Storm's End now or after King's Landing. They decided after would be safer and Varys helped them write a careful message with just the right amount of threat and incentive to imply Daenerys would view the Stormlands favorably if they aided in the efforts to cut off supplies. He also informed Tyrion that while Cersei was fortifying King's Landing, her armies have largely abandoned all other areas, leaving the smaller houses to defend themselves, and Edmure Tully had retaken Riverrun and maintained control of the Twins. At that bit of news, Varys looked at Daenerys expectantly.

"As I've informed Lord Tyrion, I've only just begun treating with Lady Sansa. I will not overstep by making demands of her when she still views me with distrust. Is there anything else?" she asked.

"I've also been thinking about House Tarly," said Tyrion slowly. She glanced at Varys who remained expressionless. "Jon thinks we should do something to show Samwell and his family that we do not wish to take their home away from them. It's a delicate issue and they are a minor house, I know, but the Reach is in flux now that House Tyrell is no more and we should ensure that the Tarlys have no further reason to raise arms against us, which will help the other houses of the Reach stay in line after you take the throne."

Daenerys was uncomfortable with Tyrion's discussion of the Tarlys but she would have had to deal with this eventually. And at least he wasn't chastising her again about what she'd done to Randyll and his son. Samwell did need to be appeased in some way, especially since he knew Jon's secret, which she would not share with either Tyrion or the Spider.

"House Tarly will be able to keep their title and lands, as long as they pledge their fealty. Samwell gave up his inheritance but we should assure him his issue will be considered nobility, and will be entitled to inherit Horn Hill if Lady Talla has no heirs of her own. Jon told me she has refused to marry Lord Fossoway after the death of her father. We can assure Sam that we support her decision and can find a more favorable match for her if she wishes. Also, he aspires to be a maester; perhaps we can make him Grand Maester? He cured Jorah's greyscale. A man as capable as that is needed on my council."

"Yes, I think he'd like that. And it would please Jon to see his close friend situated so highly."

"Then let it be done. If that's everything, then I think I shall take my leave."

Tyrion looked worried and Daenerys saw there was something he wasn't telling her. He glanced at Varys, who silently stood up and left the room.

"Is there something more you wish to tell me, Lord Hand?"

"Yes. I thought to wait until after you took the throne but since that's delayed… it's about Highgarden."

Daenerys listened in growing dismay as Tyrion described how he'd promised Highgarden, one of the richest seats in the land, fertile soil and temperate weather, to a sellsword in exchange for his and his brother's lives as well as to fulfill prior promises. There was no hope now of avoiding an argument with her Hand. She was furious and let him know it. And as if that weren't enough, Tyrion finally confessed why he had chosen to believe Cersei when she promised her armies to help against the dead. She was with child, or had been when they met in the Dragon Pit. It was a small detail, and Tyrion hadn't exactly acted against Daenerys, but she was shocked that Tyrion thought this wouldn't be important for her to know. Was he going to wait until she had put Cersei in front of the executioner? Which now of course she couldn't do, not to a pregnant woman, no matter how much Cersei deserved it.

Highgarden was infuriating but Daenerys could deal with Bronn if Varys could help find him. Not to kill him necessarily, but to make a better deal to her liking. The matter with Cersei was different. It revealed that Tyrion had not cut the familial tie to his sister as he'd led her to believe. If he was willing to hide things from his queen, he might also be willing to betray his queen.

"You tell me this now because you don't want me to kill her in an attack and you see me leaning away from a siege. But I still wonder how starving the smallfolk to the point of rioting is more merciful? Are there no horrors in a mass riot? Is she more important to you than the innocent? And Cersei herself chose death by not fighting with us for the living. She knew the truth, knew her condition, and refused; Cersei will not yield no matter who riots in the streets. You have to face the truth, Tyrion. She is lost. Besides, we have just discussed cutting supply routes. Cersei is holed up in the Red Keep, her armies cower in King's Landing wondering when we'll strike. So, whether we like it or not, the siege has begun even if we're not there to enforce it. By the time we arrive, a longer siege will likely not be necessary."

Her anger was gone now and it had been replaced with disappointment. "We will discuss your lack of candor another time. Please continue working on those messages and the other things we talked about."

"Yes, your Grace," he replied, his expression remorseful. She smiled sadly and walked out of the War Room. Daenerys was now certain that, as clever as he was, she would not keep him as Hand. She would tell him later, when it was time to leave Winterfell. But for now, her task was winning Sansa's friendship.

*::::*

Sansa practically ran to her rooms. She needed to be alone, needed time to think. Jon Snow was a Targaryen. Her Aunt Lyanna's son. Heir to the Iron Throne. She wanted her mother right now more than anything. She wanted to cry and berate her for allowing their mistreatment of Jon growing up. Oh, she knew she'd been horrible. He said he forgave her and she thought she'd allowed forgiveness for herself. But this news... her father never betrayed her mother. He had lied to them all.

She'd listened to every word Bran had to say in the Godswood, stayed silent as Arya yelled at Jon, telling him to push his claim to the throne, and wrung her hands when she had to listen to Jon whine about not wanting it and being loyal to Daenerys. Sansa's eyes had widened when she realized their familial connection and how he had bedded his aunt. But when he explained that he had stopped the relationship, she'd had enough.

"You're an idiot, Jon!" Sansa had yelled, and stormed off. And now she paced in her room, infuriated at her brother.

_How could he be so stupid? He's the only one holding Daenerys's friendship to the North. She will owe us nothing if Jon displeases her. Worse still, she might decide to assassinate him as her rival. And he put us all in danger by sharing this knowledge of his true parentage. Daenerys will have to kill us, too, if she sees us as a threat to her rule._

Sansa's mind whirled with these thoughts, wondering what to do. She had sworn to keep it a secret. Did that mean she had to pretend she didn't know about it with Daenerys, too? Jon had to have told her he planned to tell his family. She'd be looking for any sign of this knowledge in her. No, their interactions together would be better if she didn't deny knowledge of it. An understanding friend would be what Daenerys would need. Someone to confide in. She may not want to confide this knowledge to Missandei; she wouldn't want anyone to know at all. _So that means she's isolated; the man she loves has isolated her, a Targaryen with two dragons! Jon, you're an idiot. And no wonder she jumped at the chance for a friendship with me._

So lost in these thoughts was Sansa she didn't notice Arya enter her room. Sansa looked up, startled.

"You know what has to be done now. The danger our family is in," Arya said coldly.

Sansa nodded. It was the only move now to ensure their safety. Jon on the throne would guarantee the North's safety.

"When?" asked Arya.

"I need time. There are things I'm working on with her and I've been trying to gain her trust. No one should see it coming. No one should be able to blame our family."

"Why do you need her trust if the plan is to get rid of her?"

"As I said, no one should question the alliance Jon made with her. If I have her trust, her advisors will give it as well, and her armies will depart without bloodshed."

"You already have an idea, don't you?" Arya did not look surprised. Their little play with Littlefinger had taught them both how ruthless the other could be.

"Yes. My earlier thought was to have it happen in King's Landing or Dragonstone. When the time was right, I planned to ask you to do it. And I had been planning on contacting other houses for an alliance against her. Glover will readily join us though he doesn't have the men but he can bring in Manderly and others. I can convince the Vale and Uncle Edmure. But this news makes me think it needs to happen before she leaves Winterfell, before she has a chance to rethink her view of us. As you know, she went with me to Winter town and there are plans for her to continue accompanying me on my rounds of the castle and outside the walls. I can send messages to the other houses implying fractures in our alliance with her, just to get them ready to support Jon when she's gone."

"Poison would be cleaner. It's how I ended House Frey after all," said Arya coolly.

Sansa felt a chill pass over her and thought of Joffrey and how painful his death had been. There surely were poisons that could make it painless for Daenerys. But having it happen within the castle made Sansa uneasy. It would raise suspicions against House Stark.

"I think an attack in Winter town or somewhere else outside the castle would be better. There would be less suspicion in a random attack than with a calculated infiltration of Winterfell," said Sansa.

"And Bran?"

"Bran will see the necessity of our safety and won't betray us."

"Jon will know, he won't forgive us."

"Jon will _suspect_, and as long as he sits on that blasted you-know-what and keeps the North in peace, then I don't care what he does. He made our choice for us when he rejected her as his lover and told us the truth of who he was."

"So you would break your vow and tell others about him?"

Sansa's heart beat rapidly. Doing so and hoping for the right outcome left too much to chance. Daenerys would know who shared the information and it increased the risk for all of them. But more importantly, betraying Jon's trust… she was already going to betray his queen, she did not want to add another terrible thing to that list.

"I won't. But with her gone, you and I will push hard for him to reveal it himself, to gain support against Cersei. She still needs to be removed from power. Even with that name, Jon will have support. And he is a dragon rider. He may be able to control those dragons."

"We could work on him to accept their relationship instead? It doesn't have to go the other way," offered Arya. This surprised Sansa. But of course sparing him this loss had to be considered. He was still their brother.

"But then how does that keep the North out of her hands? Or at least leave us in safety?"

"Didn't you say you're working her? Gaining her trust? She may not have Jon as a consort but she would have you both as allies. She will want allies."

"I don't know. I don't know if I can trust her, Arya. I see it in her. Her anger, her obstinance."

Sansa couldn't define this feeling that she had about Daenerys. She had recently caught glimpses of the heart underneath, the person Jon loved. Strong, intelligent, kind to her loyal followers, these were all things Sansa was beginning to admire in Daenerys. A strange flutter in her stomach was felt as other memories of their encounters came to her and Sansa suddenly felt weak in her resolve. _But this has been the plan all along_, she argued with herself, straightening and staring hard at Arya. She focused on the haughtiness, the self-righteous air about Daenerys, and the certainty that the Dragon Queen would rather burn those who oppose her than show mercy and understanding; all these things added up to a queen who would not understand the North's hesitance. Jon's love might have been able to temper those impulses but without him at her side what was to stop her from burning them all when Sansa and the rest refused to obey?

There was a moment's pause as the two sisters pondered the future. Then Arya said softly, "I can understand what you're doing but aren't you concerned with her motivations for pursuing a friendship with you? What does she hope to get out of it?"

"As you say, she wants allies. And she knows my view of her and what I want for the North. I expect she's trying to head off a future confrontation between us after she wins the throne."

"She's charming, Sansa. You need to be cautious." Arya eyed her knowingly, making Sansa uncomfortable. _How could she know?_

Sansa nodded but didn't want to share how drawn to Daenerys she'd already become. "I have to think, Arya. Can you make my excuses at dinner? I need to figure out when would be the right time to tell her I know about Jon."

"You're going to let her know you know?" Arya asked, surprised.

"It's the smart move. She will respect the honesty I give her. You've seen how she takes on as advisors those who acted against her or whose families did. Jorah Mormont, Lord Varys, Lord Tyrion. She already knows I dislike her, or did. I see now that Jon has broken her heart and her pain cannot be shared due to the sensitive nature of the secret. I'm almost positive she has told no one. I can be the confidante she needs."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The following morning Sansa broke fast in the Great Hall, sitting alone. Jon had left early to attend to training sessions in the soldiers’ camps and her plan was to tour the keep and update herself on the progress of the rebuilding.

Daenerys walked in with Missandei at her side. Their eyes met and she walked towards Sansa.

“Lady Sansa, I apologize again for my unavailability yesterday. I was hoping we could continue our walks together today?”

“Of course, your Grace,” Sansa replied, somewhat relieved that Daenerys had been the one to approach her and not the other way around which meant she hadn’t scared her off completely. “It’ll be a short morning’s walk around the keep as I am told we will have more petitioners from the smallfolk today. Now that the dead are gone, people want to head back to their homes, or what’s left of them anyway, and they want supplies.”

“I don’t blame them. Winterfell is majestic but home is home.”

Daenerys’s gaze was warm and inviting and it took Sansa’s breath away. _No… I will not lose myself today_. Steeling herself, she stood up.

“Are you ready now? I was going to leave directly from here,” said Sansa.

“Lead the way, Lady Sansa. Missandei will accompany us, if you don’t mind,” Daenerys said.

“Not at all, your Grace,” answered Sansa, glad to not have to be alone with her but she also wondered if Daenerys invited Missandei because she, too, was afraid to be alone with Sansa.

“I also wanted to let you know that I’ve given the order for a portion of my armies to depart for White Harbor. Your men will get the rest I promised them but my own men have imposed upon your hospitality long enough. I have also ordered shipments of food from Dragonstone as well as Meereen be sent here to Winterfell as a thank you for providing for us and to make up for my own shortsightedness; we brought supplies but we should have brought more.”

Sansa was too shocked to speak. It was more than she expected and not something she’d asked for. She tried to work out what was behind Daenerys’s generosity, what she would be getting out of it. Staring at her, she saw a patient smile for of course Daenerys would expect her suspicions to be raised. Sansa smiled in return and gave a small laugh.

“I should worry that you read me too well but I want to thank you just the same. Our stores are nowhere near the levels they should be for this winter and your shipments will be very much appreciated.”

“Your people are my people, Lady Sansa,” replied Daenerys. The words had no edge to them and she knew they were meant kindly but Sansa felt the wall between them come up once again, a reminder that the North was not free and she tried to harden herself against these displays of generosity. _Gain her trust but don’t give her all of mine_.

The walk around the keep was quick and full of sweet politeness that rang false. Sansa was trying to be civil without getting too personal because she didn’t want to like Daenerys any more than she already did. Anytime she looked at Daenerys she was reminded of how she’d undressed in front of her. It was only her upper back but to Sansa she may as well have been naked and she was trying to forget that other thoughts had crossed her mind as well. Unfortunately, polite civility couldn’t get Daenerys to let her guard down the way she had the first day. Today was all manners and awkward silences, a pleasant aloofness that would be fine with anyone else but would not be enough to guarantee Daenerys would continue wanting to spend these days with her.

*::::*

To say that Daenerys was disappointed by the last few days with Sansa would be an understatement. The tour of the keep had been pleasant enough and Daenerys had tried to look interested as Sansa shared some of Winterfell’s history. But watching her discuss plans with builders was not very stimulating. Sansa treated her like a guest instead of a friend. But she also had to admit to herself that she didn’t try very hard to be treated otherwise. The next day was more of the same when they had toured a bit of the soldiers’ camps. Daenerys had been happy to see that some of her Unsullied and Dothraki soldiers had seemed to be getting along a bit better with the northmen but Sansa remained distant. The day after that had gone better but only because they went back to Winter town and their attentions were on conversing with the various people they encountered there. She’d even brought two guards this time instead of four to make it less intimidating. Their interactions with each other remained stilted and uncomfortable. If only she and Sansa could get back to the easiness of that first day in Winter town. For some reason neither of them could get past what had happened between them that night in her solar. The awkwardness of how personal Sansa had gotten, baring her scars as she did, the silky skin beneath her fingertips. _She didn’t feel the same way_, she reminded herself, shaking her head.

Daenerys decided to ask Sansa to accompany her to check on Drogon and Rhaegal. She doubted Sansa would get very close but it would be a change of pace and hopefully inspire some more genuine reactions from herself as well as Sansa instead of the reserved Lady Stark she’d been seeing recently. Missandei had been dispatched the night before to give the invitation and Daenerys was waiting by the stables in the chilly morning, having already given instructions to the stable hands to saddle Lady Sansa’s and Ser Brienne’s horses as well as her own. Grey Worm rode ahead and would be waiting for them. It was still early and her dragons would have recently fed so they shouldn’t be in a foul mood, or at least not too foul of a mood. They still disliked the frozen North after all.

She had of course expected Sansa to bring Ser Brienne along but Daenerys was surprised to see Jon walking with them. He didn’t look happy and she couldn’t help the coldness that came over her.

“I apologize, your Grace, but my brother insisted,” Sansa said stiffly. Daenerys could tell the woman was angry and did not want Jon with them.

“Your Grace, I don’t think it’s a good idea for Lady Sansa to get too close to Drogon and Rhaegal. Unpredictable things can happen in even the most controlled settings,” Jon said. He was distant when he spoke with her and Daenerys couldn’t help but think of those nights with his hot breath against her neck. She still loved him but instead of their love giving her strength, his rejection now made her weak.

Sansa took a few steps towards Daenerys’s side, wordlessly telling her that she would go with her in spite of Jon’s wishes. It was a little gesture but it made Daenerys stand straighter against Jon. She would not let him interfere.

“I appreciate the care you take as a protective brother but I can assure you that I will not let any harm befall Lady Sansa. Ser Brienne will be with us and I will stand between Lady Sansa and my children at all times.” It was an assurance he didn’t deserve but Daenerys also wanted it made clear to anyone who was eavesdropping that she would make every effort to protect the Lady of Winterfell.

Sansa glowered at Jon as he looked to her to change her mind. She remained silent and Daenerys smirked at Jon in triumph.

“Your Grace,” he said with a bow and plodded away in defeat.

“Well then, now that that’s over, shall we go? My riders say my dragons are about a half hour’s ride passed the tree line into the Wolfswood. There’s a small clearing there apparently.”

“Yes, I know exactly the clearing you mean, your Grace,” said Sansa, gesturing for the stable hand to bring her mount.

*::::*

Daenerys had been right about this being a good change of pace for them. She could see how horse riding had allowed Sansa to settle herself, sitting straight in the saddle but not stiffly. Her Dothraki riders would’ve been impressed.

It had been mostly small talk between them on the ride through the Wolfswood, following an old hunter’s trail, each preferring the silence of their thoughts. Daenerys didn’t know if Sansa was nervous about seeing her dragons but she didn’t show it. When they finally reached the clearing, Daenerys could see Drogon and Rhaegal on the other side. Glancing around the clearing, she noted its rough, circular shape, about seventy paces in diameter. Grey Worm, on foot, walked towards Brienne, holding the reins of his mount. He didn’t say a word but she could see that he had nothing to report.

“Grey Worm will stay here with the horses. We should walk the rest of the way,” Daenerys said as she dismounted. Sansa and Brienne did the same.

As they walked towards the dragons, Daenerys leading the way, they said nothing. Daenerys was completely focused on Drogon, trying to sense his mood. He looked protective of his brother but Daenerys sighed in relief as she saw Drogon stretch his wings lazily. He would not give her guests any trouble. They were twenty paces away when Daenerys turned to Sansa.

“I don’t know how brave you are, Lady Sansa, but this is probably a safe enough distance for you and Ser Brienne. I’m going to walk all the way over to them and mother them for a bit and then I’ll come back. Is that all right?” she asked, looking toward both women. They nodded. Brienne looked poised to draw her sword at the slightest provocation. Sansa did seem nervous but also curious. She was still flushed from the ride and it made her skin glow. Coupled with the flame of her hair, Daenerys felt her heart race just looking at her.

She cleared her thoughts and turned back to her children. Walking toward them Daenerys could see that they looked fed though there were no animal remains so they must’ve eaten at their usual spot. Rhaegal’s wings still looked tender but he seemed to not be in anymore pain. She would need to fly with them again soon to see how confident he looked in the air. Whispering words of comfort, she leaned against her child’s snout, feeling thankful to whatever gods that cared that Rhaegal had survived. Turning to Drogon, she was tempted to climb up for a ride but she wanted to avoid a demonstration of power to Sansa. Although, maybe she could convince Sansa to come with her.

“Absolutely not,” Sansa yelled.

“How did you know what I was thinking?” Daenerys called back, laughing.

“You have on your face the same look my sister would get when she would try to convince me to do something I didn’t want to do,” she replied.

Daenerys walked back to her and said, “Are you sure you don’t want to? I can keep Drogon steady.”

“Horses are perfectly fine with me. I’ll leave the dragons to you dragon riders.”

Drogon suddenly screeched and spread out his wings. Rhaegal did the same and soon they were taking off.

“Where are they going?” Sansa asked, eyes lit up in wonder.

“I’m not sure exactly. I think they want to leave us alone,” Daenerys replied, enjoying the amazed look on Sansa’s face. “So, since you would not take me up on my offer of a dragon ride, what do you say to a more rigorous horseback ride? I can see you have the skill. Ride with me.”

*::::*

When Missandei came to her with the invitation, Sansa hadn’t really cared to see the dragons again, much less up close. Watching them fly over Winterfell had been enough to fill her heart with fear at such power in the hands of an impetuous ruler. But she had also recognized that Daenerys was making an effort here to bridge the gap that had grown between them. The last few days had not gone well so she’d gritted her teeth and agreed. Her resolve had only deepened when Jon found out and tried to stop her. Plus, she had to admit she enjoyed the ride out to the clearing. It was a relatively mild day and the snows weren’t deep enough to impede the horses.

Watching Daenerys with the dragons had been very revealing. She saw how much she loved them and how they responded to her. Lady came to mind and she identified with Daenerys’s connection with her dragons. The fear of them was still there but Sansa liked to think she understood Daenerys a little better. Daenerys’s glance to the top of Drogon told Sansa that she was thinking of riding him and the glance back towards her filled her with dread. Arya would’ve jumped at the chance to ride a dragon but Sansa had no such desire and told Daenerys so. But now she was being challenged to show Daenerys how well she could ride a horse and she was definitely more amenable to that.

The three of them walked back to their horses and Sansa told Brienne to stay with Grey Worm at the edge of the clearing.

Mounting their horses, Daenerys and Sansa wordlessly looked at each other and then towards the other side of the clearing. As if they were of one mind, they both urged their horses to a trot and then quick canter. It wasn’t really a race; just a chance to size each other up. Sansa admired how natural Daenerys looked, the smile on her face open and free. It didn’t take very long to reach the other side of the clearing where the dragons had been. They halted their horses and turned around.

“You are a very good rider, your Grace,” complimented Sansa.

“You have a good seat yourself, Lady Sansa,” answered Daenerys with a smirk.

Sansa smiled at the double meaning. She was trying to think of a witty remark in reference to Daenerys’s hands when Daenerys kick started her horse to ride around the perimeter of the clearing. Sansa laughed and followed. The wind in her hair, helping her horse navigate the few fallen trees and occasional snow drifts, Sansa was reminded of how much she enjoyed riding and vowed to do it more often. They made it back to the side of the clearing opposite of Grey Worm and Brienne, who were both still on foot, holding their horses’ reins and closely watching them from afar.

“Care for a race back to Winterfell, Lady Sansa?”

“Is that wise, your Grace? A clearing is one thing but navigating through the wood at speed could be dangerous, even on a trail. Plus, I obviously have the advantage by knowing the terrain.”

“Caring for my safety while also boasting about your knowledge, eh? I like this side of you,” teased Daenerys. “Come on. First one through the wood wins. If I win, I choose our next outing. If you win, you teach me some basic needlework.”

Sansa thought for a few moments. Seeing Daenerys try her hand at needlework was tempting.

“I don’t think our people would be very happy with us,” said Sansa, looking towards Grey Worm and Brienne.

“They will follow us and scold us later but it’ll be worth it.”

Sansa answered by throwing her hair back and adjusting her grip on the reins. Daenerys smiled and did the same. The horses tensed and began pawing at the ground and tossing their heads, sensing their riders’ intentions.

“Ready,” said Sansa.

“And,” said Daenerys.

“Go!” they both said in unison, starting their horses into a gallop.

Whoever made it through the clearing to the tree line first would have the advantage. The trail was wide enough for two horses to be abreast of each other if they were walking but not at a run. Brienne and Grey Worm looked as if they wanted to block the trail head to stop the race but they thought better of it and moved to the side to let them pass.

Daenerys’s horse was not used to the snow but was faster than Sansa’s mount so Daenerys was able to reach the tree line first, plunging ahead on the trail with Sansa close behind.

Sansa called ahead, “Don’t get too comfortable, your Grace! You still have to make it to the other side!”

She turned around and saw Brienne and Grey Worm trying to chase but they were not going fast enough and were left far behind. Ahead she saw Daenerys slow slightly at the uneven terrain, and to conserve her horse’s energy for the distance, but it wasn’t slow enough for Sansa to pass safely. If Sansa was going to pass, she needed to get off the trail. _And what good was a northern horse if not to show a southern queen its worth?_

Seeing a break in the trees ahead on the right, she got ready. Nudging her horse ever so slightly, she peeled off the trail. Now that there was no rider in front of her, Sansa’s horse was given free rein. She didn’t have to use her heels to urge her to go faster. Jumps over fallen trees, dodging trees and branches, dips in the ground, she would let none of these slow her down. Before she knew it, she was now even with Daenerys, who glanced over at her in surprise.

Sansa concentrated on not losing ground. She didn’t mind losing but she would’ve considered a lopsided loss to be unacceptable. Soon the tree line was in sight. Daenerys charged for it and Sansa wondered if Daenerys had forgotten about the fallen tree that they’d gone over earlier. If she had, she didn’t show it and handled the jump easily. However, Sansa’s own horse found another reserve and surged ahead, in spite of the additional obstacles of being off trail. She was a half-length ahead at least when they burst out of the wood. Sansa whooped in triumph and turned to Daenerys to say something before being thrown by her horse into a snow drift the horse suddenly didn’t want to go through.

She was on her back in shock when she heard Daenerys call to her, dismount, and run over.

“Lady Sansa! Lady Sansa, are you all right?” Daenerys said, falling to her knees beside Sansa, her face full of worry.

The snow had been soft so the landing had not hurt her. Sansa looked up at her and began laughing. Daenerys looked confused which made Sansa laugh even more. Lifting herself up she pushed Daenerys so that she had fallen on her back into the snow with a surprised ‘oomph’ followed by her own laughter.

“I win!” declared Sansa.

Sansa felt like a girl again, without a care in the world. Daenerys quickly tried to sit up but Sansa pushed her back down, giggling over how silly Daenerys looked lying in the snow. With a vague thought of smashing snow into her face, Sansa threw one leg over until she was straddling the Dragon Queen. They were both still laughing but Sansa forgot her intent when she saw Daenerys’s eyes darken. She smiled down at her, no longer feeling like a young girl but a woman. Daenerys tried to push her off but Sansa quickly grabbed her hands and leaned forward, pushing them down until they were on either side of Daenerys’s head. They were panting, half smiling, their eyes were locked on each other and Sansa felt Daenerys’s hands squeeze hers. The friction between her legs caused Sansa to release an audible sigh that bordered on a moan. At seeing the eyes of the woman beneath her widen in surprise, Sansa forced a laugh and hurriedly released her hands and sat up, intending to stand but Daenerys also sat up, pressing her chest against her, looking up at her with a flushed face.

“You’re very tall, Lady Sansa,” whispered Daenerys under her breath, more to herself it seemed. Sansa opened her mouth to reply but the words wouldn’t form.

Feeling Daenerys’s breath against her face gave Sansa goosebumps. It had probably only lasted a minute but it felt like hours, furtive eyes looking at each other’s lips, and Sansa was very conscious of the fact that Daenerys Targaryen was between her legs. _I should stop this… but… the way she’s looking at me… if I move against her… just once, just to see… would she… could we…_

While Sansa’s hands itched to grab Daenerys, she noticed that Daenerys had kept her own hands to her sides as well. _What if she laughs at me? I can’t I can’t I can’t._ Sansa’s sense returned and she brought a handful of snow to press against Daenerys’s neck. The surprised look on her face was the most amusing thing she’d seen in ages and Sansa fell back to the snow beside Daenerys in laughter.

Daenerys threw herself back down and laughed, too. Nervously at first but then sincerely, each taking turns throwing snow at the other and they were giggling like children when Brienne and Grey Worm rode out of the wood and over to them.

“My lady, your Grace, are you two injured?” asked Brienne. Grey Worm rushed to his queen’s side and helped her up.

“We’re fine, Ser Brienne,” answered Daenerys. “Just a bit of fun in the snow.”

At this, she grinned conspiratorially at Sansa but Sansa could only blush in response. _I didn’t moan while I was on her. It was just a harsh exhale from the physical exertion of the race._

“I am happy to report that Lady Sansa won the race, her horse is a magnificent example of northern endurance and strength. As promised, I owe her a prize and I look forward to her deft fingers instructing me in the more womanly arts.”

This time Sansa couldn’t help the scandalous look she shot at Daenerys, who only smiled back innocently. Brienne looked between the two of them but if she had any thoughts on Daenerys’s remark, she kept her expression as neutral as Grey Worm’s.

Taking a deep breath, Sansa wiped off the loose snow that clung to her and walked over to her waiting horse.

“The only thing I have to say right now about those _womanly arts_ you’re looking forward to is something my sister once said to me. You stick it with the pointy end,” she said calmly. Brienne gave her a leg up and she mounted her horse.

Daenerys grinned appreciatively. She walked over to her own horse and mounted quickly.

They rode in silence the rest of the way back to the castle. Once at the stables, they dismounted and Brienne and Grey Worm gave them space to share a word before separating.

“Lady Sansa, I was wondering if you would have dinner with me tonight in my solar. I feel like we discuss things much more openly without a retinue of guards following us. Will you come?”

Sansa enjoyed some of the nervousness she detected in Daenerys with this invitation. It would be nice to speak more freely and this was the opportunity she needed to broach the subject of Jon. _But the thing that just happened…_

“I would be happy to, your Grace,” answered Sansa with a nod of her head, speaking before her fear of being alone with Daenerys could stop her.

“Excellent. I will see you then. And thank you for accompanying me today and for the race. It was most illuminating.” Daenerys glanced up and down Sansa’s length and walked away with Grey Worm. She stared after her for a moment; it looked as if she was heading for the Great Hall. Sansa turned away and felt very exposed about what she had _illuminated_ for the Dragon Queen. Dinner tonight would be full of teases, she was sure. Sansa knew her imagination today would be filled with the various humiliations that could be directed at her. She was partly annoyed but also anxious. _Why did I straddle her?_ Sansa asked herself as she headed for the Godswood to think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More creative license taken, this time of a clearing in the Wolfswood.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

In the Godswood, Sansa replayed in her mind that scene in the snow with the Dragon Queen. It was _completely_ ridiculous, her straddling Daenerys, holding her hands down, and rubbing against her ever so slightly. And then when Daenerys sat up, she thought she would kiss her. _Absurd_, she thought incredulously, ignoring that her heart suddenly began racing. _And now I’m going to have dinner alone with her? _But the ride had been fun and Daenerys continued to surprise her, this time with her care for her dragons, her humor, and her daring. Guilt began to creep itself into the pit of her stomach.

She shook it away. _Me want her? Ridiculous._

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footfalls in the snow. Turning, she saw Tyrion approach. Sansa looked away quickly, trying to compose herself. _He’s supposed to stay away_. _Protect him, protect him by keeping him away._

“Pardon the intrusion, my lady. I know you’ve asked the queen for me to leave you alone but I feel as if the air needs to be cleared between us.”

Sansa said nothing, calming her breath, trying not to think of the strange combination of Tyrion and Daenerys beneath her legs. The image was even more preposterous than what had happened earlier and she had to suppress a laugh. Perhaps sensing that she was not going to send him away, Tyrion moved closer until he was standing next to her.

“Lady Sansa, if you could only explain why you made this request…”

“Lord Tyrion, I thought it prudent that we spend some time apart.”

“I thought we were to remain friends…”

“And we are. Time apart doesn’t mean we’re not. It just gives us space to put what happened into perspective.”

“And what perspective is that for you?” he asked, looking up at her face.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she said, repeating something she had said to him the last time they were together in the Godswood. “What we shared was very meaningful to me. But… for so long it was about surviving. And now I am just beginning to see that I have a future to think about. I want time to explore what that means. I owe that to myself. Can you understand that?”

It was as close to the truth as she could share. Of the reasons why she couldn’t commit to the Hand of the Dragon Queen, like his loyalties and her own plot against his queen, new reasons had recently developed. Secret reasons. Shameful reasons. Like the fact she had just straddled his queen and the sensation of that pressure against her still lingered, however much she tried to shake it. She couldn’t share this with Tyrion; she could barely acknowledge it herself.

“So it has nothing to do with all the time you’ve been spending with the queen? One might say it has been quite the reversal for you,” Tyrion said accusingly.

“If you’re going to willfully ignore what I’ve said then perhaps we shouldn’t speak at all,” answered Sansa, turning to walk away. Tyrion grabbed her arm.

“I keep thinking about what you’re planning. Do you really think she’ll just give you the North if you’re her friend and you ask nicely? Of course not, the Sansa I know wouldn’t be so gullible. So then what is it? Do you think the queen will be unable to punish a friend who acts against her? Hmmm, this could be closer. You’ve already admitted to me your loyalty to the North above all. So then your intention is to never swear loyalty to her. The queen likely knows this as well, so why is she going along with this strange friendship? Why does she tolerate you lying to her face?”

“Unhand me,” Sansa said coolly.

Tyrion ignored her and continued, “But I’ve watched the two of you together. There is something real happening. You’re truly getting to know each other. And then I think to myself, what if your plot is actually more sinister?”

He stepped closer to her and in a low voice added, “If this is the case, you don’t want to go down that road, Sansa. The world doesn’t need more Cersei’s and Littlefinger’s.”

Sansa yanked her arm away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lord Tyrion. I am getting to know your queen to alleviate my own reservations about her. Isn’t that what you and Jon have wanted me to do all along? Now that I’m doing so, all you can do is question my motives. Perhaps we are not the friends I thought we were.”

Walking away without looking back, anger, hurt, and a small amount of fear flooded her. Sansa hadn’t wanted them to argue, she hadn’t wanted Tyrion to speak to her at all because she knew he had more insight into her than anyone else. He didn’t have details but he was close. And if Tyrion figured that out, did that mean Daenerys knew, too? Would he have shared this with her?

Once out of the Godswood she was surprised to run into Daenerys who smiled at her but then seemed to notice her distress.

“Is something wrong, Lady Sansa?”

Before Sansa could answer, Tyrion appeared behind her. Sansa looked between the two of them, Daenerys looking at Tyrion with annoyance, and Tyrion looking at Daenerys with chagrin.

“Excuse me, your Grace, Lord Tyrion,” Sansa said, nodded to each, and walked away, leaving them to talk about whatever they were going to talk about. Tyrion would surely be scolded for not following his queen’s orders. _Good._

For now, she needed to head back to her rooms for a bath. The sweat from the ride had dried on her skin but her clothes and hair were a mess. Sansa tried to forget what it felt like to be on top of Daenerys but she failed miserably.

*::::*

Daenerys walked into her rooms and asked that a bath be drawn for her. Missandei started the fire in the hearth while Daenerys sat and waited for the servants. She pondered the exchange with Tyrion, fuming at his disobedience.

_“I told you that you were to stay away from her until you had my permission.”_

_“I was just concerned for you, your Grace. I worry that she may be trying to deceive you in some way.”_

_“Do you think that I haven’t thought of that? I am not an idiot, Lord Tyrion. And don’t pretend your concern is for me, I know that your concern is for Lady Sansa and what I may do to her if she does betray me.”_

_“What will you do?”_

_“I will let you know if that situation occurs. For now, I will not have you disobey me again. If she approaches you, that’s her decision. Until that time, don’t take it personally and obey her request.”_

_“Yes, your Grace.” _

“How did it go?” Missandei asked gently, interrupting Daenerys’s thoughts.

“Well, I think.”

“Was she afraid of them?”

“Yes but not to the point of quivering. She held a healthy respect for their power and observed me closely. I expect she was wondering why I wanted her there in the first place.”

“And why did you want her there?” probed Missandei.

“Engaging with her lately has been difficult. I thought it would be a nice change. I don’t know. Maybe I wanted her to understand them a bit more. Or understand me a bit more.” Daenerys sat and brooded, thinking over the other things that happened after the race.

“You seem quiet, your Grace. Did something else happen?”

She glanced at Missandei and debated whether she should share everything. What happened in the snow was private, it belonged to her and Sansa, and for the moment she liked it that way. One minute they were laughing and the next she was being straddled by a winter goddess with icy blue eyes that swam in desire. But Sansa didn’t seem to recognize her own self and ended the moment. Daenerys brought a hand up to her neck, remembering how cold the snow was, and how tightly Sansa’s legs had gripped her.

“We weren’t there with my dragons for very long before they flew off. She and I raced each other back through the Wolfswood and she won. I’m now to receive a basic lesson in needlework as her reward,” Daenerys said with a smile.

“Lady Sansa won? Did you let her?”

“No,” said Daenerys with a laugh. “To be honest, that didn’t even occur to me. I wanted to win, to show off, I suppose. But she was a vision on horseback.”

Daenerys failed to hide the admiration in her voice and Missandei directed a quizzical look her way but thankfully the servants interrupted by bringing the bath and scalding hot water. Missandei helped undress Daenerys and when she sat in the tub she told her friend she wanted to be alone.

_Sansa was indeed a vision_, she thought again, lying back in the tub and closing her eyes. She had molded herself to her horse, her fiery red hair flying behind her. Daenerys had never seen her look so alive. If she had been more decisive when Sansa was on her, if she had just wrapped her arms around her when she had the chance, Daenerys would also know what those soft lips tasted like.

_I’m attracted to her_, acknowledged Daenerys with a sigh. _And after this morning, I know she has similar feelings_. She thought of the encounter where Sansa bared her back and realized that Sansa’s trembling had indeed been desire and the heat she’d felt had not been one-sided after all. _It has been building between us all along. But the alliance with the North is already tenuous. And she still doesn’t trust me, not really. I cannot lose sight of what she really wants._ After a few moments she began to smile and sink further into the bath. _A little torment tonight might be fun, though._

*::::* (mixed POV)

Sansa couldn’t help but feel that the stakes were high tonight as she was choosing between dresses for tonight’s dinner. This wasn’t meant to be formal; it was a different sort of performance that she had to give. Softness rather than severity. She eschewed the grey with leather and chain she’d been favoring lately for something simple; a dark green but with a neckline that went just below the collar bone, plain embroidery along the hem. It would probably pale next to whatever Daenerys chose but it wasn’t a competition. She wanted to look the part of a friend, not an enemy. Instead of an elaborate array of braids, she instructed her handmaiden to make two braids along the crown of her head, joined in the back, with the rest loose. Examining herself in the mirror, she saw a younger and more innocent woman looking back at her. _Perfect._

Daenerys was in her solar, the food already spread out on the table, waiting for Sansa to arrive. She’d made sure the fire in the hearth had been kept blazing for hours so that the room was especially warm. And she sent Missandei to the Great Hall to observe the goings-on in her absence. The anticipation, the waiting, was driving her crazy. Maybe being alone at dinner was a mistake. She made the invitation on a whim, her body still buzzing from what had happened in the snow. Daenerys thought about sending for Missandei but before she could make up her mind, Grey Worm opened her door, allowing Sansa entry. She was breathtaking, the majority of her hair loose, the dress implying innocence and grace instead of hardship and steel. Summoning all of her control, Daenerys presented an outwardly calm smile.

“Thank you for coming, Lady Sansa. The food hasn’t been here very long but it’ll cool quickly if we don’t start. Shall we dine first and talk by the fire afterwards?”

“Yes, that would be lovely, your Grace,” answered Sansa politely. She walked to the table and sat down, Daenerys sitting down as well. When she walked in the first thing Sansa had noticed was that Daenerys had also chosen a different style of dress, something she hadn’t worn before at Winterfell. In the firelight, the pale blue of the fabric shimmered, sleeveless, the neckline low and revealing more skin than Sansa had been prepared to see. It was definitely less imposing than her dragon riding outfits, accentuating her softer and more inviting physical attributes. It seemed they each had the same idea of appealing to the other with their looks, which made this dinner seem less like a meeting of friends and more like an encounter between courting lovers. _Is this what courting feels like?_ wondered Sansa.

Daenerys noticed Sansa had gotten lost in thought, staring at her dress in the vicinity of her chest, and she softly cleared her throat, bringing Sansa’s attention back to her face. They exchanged awkward smiles at each other before deciding to fill their hands with busy work, preparing their plates.

“I admit to some apprehension, Lady Sansa. About earlier…”

“It was all in fun, your Grace,” interrupted Sansa. “I felt myself a young girl again, playing in the snow. I apologize if the play I chose was not to your liking.”

Sansa didn’t know if Daenerys would allow this excuse but the last thing she wanted to do was discuss her motivations in more detail. She focused on her plate, her expression poised and emotionless, as if challenging Daenerys to dispute her account.

“On the contrary, I enjoyed it very much,” replied Daenerys, a slight smirk on her lips. She quite liked how uncomfortable Sansa looked, sitting across from her, avoiding eye contact. She decided not to come close to this topic again for the rest of the dinner. _Later_, she thought. _After more wine_.

The dinner went smoothly, Daenerys focusing the conversation on Sansa, though occasionally interjecting with some stories of her own. They discussed the rebuilding efforts, how long the winter was really supposed to last, lighthearted childhood memories, Sansa’s friendship with Margaery Tyrell, and so on. Whether Sansa realized it or not, she drank two full goblets of wine, and Daenerys saw that it was having its effect on her. Sansa had started the meal on her guard but Daenerys was confident by the end of it that her laughter was relaxed and genuine.

Before they knew it, they’d finished their meals and moved their conversation to the chairs in front of the hearth. Sansa was glad she’d chosen a lighter dress since the warmth from the wine and from the fire was making her a little lightheaded. Her chair being placed so closely besides that of Daenerys didn’t help either.

“So, Lady Sansa, tell me about Cersei. Lord Tyrion speaks of her as a brother speaks of a hated sister. I need your opinion since I know you spent a significant length of time with her in King’s Landing.”

Sansa thought carefully before speaking. It wouldn’t hurt to be honest on these points.

“Lord Tyrion will always underestimate her, your Grace. No matter what she’s done to him and anyone else, she is his family.”

“He has said she loved her children? Is that true?”

“Yes, I think they were the only people she really loved. Not even Jaime comes close. But her thirst for power, what she’s willing to do to keep it… Cersei Lannister may not be evil incarnate but she’s close. Cunning, manipulative, she knows how to exploit weaknesses. Tyrion made a mistake believing her promise to help us.”

“He’s told me she’s with child which is why he believed that she would choose to fight for the living.”

Sansa thought on this new piece of information.

“It’s possible she deluded herself into thinking they would be able to defeat the Night King after her enemies were wiped out. She does have an overinflated sense of her own power. She saw your dragon, she saw the wight, she knew how you had bested her army on the road from Highgarden, and she still thought she could win.”

Daenerys stared quietly into the fire before getting up to fetch the flagon of wine from the table.

Sitting down again and setting the flagon on the table to the right of her chair, she turned to Sansa. “As you know, Lord Tyrion advises a long siege. Starve the city and the people will turn on her. Do you think that’s a good strategy?”

“He wants a peaceful transition of power where no one dies. It’s an impossible dream. I saw the same rioting he did. It is not peaceful and the weak and innocent get brutalized by the mobs which aren’t able to reach the true targets of their ire. And now that Cersei knows the power of the throne she will never give it up willingly. If the people turn on her she will just kill them. She’ll take everyone with her, even her child. No, you have dragons. You must force the city to surrender. The people will fear you at first but you can win them over afterwards.”

“I confess my thoughts align with yours. But I am wary of innocent casualties. Even strategic targets like walls and soldiers won’t prevent that. However, I will leave further discussions of this to my war council. Now, about earlier…”

Sansa’s eyes widened. She saw now that Daenerys had waited until the wine and the room’s warmth had done their work. She took a deep breath and tried to maintain her composure.

“You are quite the horsewoman, Lady Sansa. I had no idea how skilled you would be. You were a wondrous sight, fierce and confident.”

The compliments surprised and pleased Sansa. She felt similarly about Daenerys’s riding skills, though she did not wish to lavish the same amount of praise.

“If the terrain had been different, and in milder weather, you would have beaten me for sure. How did you learn to ride so well?” asked Sansa.

Daenerys laughed and said, “I was married to a Dothraki khal. The Dothraki take their horses very seriously and I learned from the best.”

“What else did you learn?” asked Sansa. She immediately wished she’d held that question back. _Bloody wine._

“Hmmm… I’m not sure your northern sensibilities could take it,” hinted Daenerys, taking the flagon and refilling Sansa’s goblet.

Sansa suppressed a blush and brought the goblet to her lips to hide behind. She should change the subject but curiosity got the better of her.

“Does this have anything to do with learning how to tame your khal?”

It was a bold question and Sansa was rewarded with wide violet eyes, impressed that she did not shy away. The small triumph she felt grew even larger when Daenerys could only offer a nod in answer before taking a large sip of her wine, seemingly embarrassed.

“How did you do it?” asked Sansa. Seeing Daenerys look so uncertain in her chair made Sansa feel brave.

“Northern sensibilities, Lady Sansa. Are you sure you want to know?”

Sansa ignored the warning that Daenerys offered and the one in her mind. She nodded with a grin.

“Well, I had handmaidens who were responsible for teaching me the Dothraki way, the language, my role as Khaleesi. One of them had been a bedslave in one of the pleasure houses of Lys.”

Daenerys smiled meaningfully and Sansa slowly began to realize that perhaps the one that had been cornered in this conversation was herself.

“Her name was Doreah. She taught me many things. Like how to please my husband, and in turn please myself. It was very eye-opening, getting instruction like that from a woman. She was beautiful.”

There was a look in Daenerys’s eyes that made Sansa wonder what exactly happened between them. She felt flushed and unsure, looking again at Daenerys’s exposed skin and neck, and then turning away with a blush when she saw Daenerys give a knowing look.

“It is not very accepted here, relations between women,” Sansa muttered, and then quickly glanced at Daenerys, alarmed she’d spoken those thoughts aloud, hoping it didn’t come across as an admonishment, or worse, a lament implying her own desire. Her mind again flashed to their encounter in the snow.

Daenerys almost felt sorry for how she manipulated Sansa in this conversation. Her earlier reference to just playing in the snow meant that Sansa didn’t want to discuss it openly but Daenerys still wanted to gauge her thoughts. Using her past, which suggested an interest in a future encounter, got Sansa to respond in ways that she wouldn’t have if she’d used direct questioning. Curious, confused, and a hint of reluctant arousal would be how she would describe Sansa at this moment, and this state of mind created a tantalizing opening.

“I told you. Northern sensibilities,” said Daenerys softly. She decided to be merciful, the lurking fear in the back of her mind that Sansa was feigning all of this also contributing to her hesitance. Turning her thoughts to Tyrion, she felt it was time to ask about Sansa’s true feelings towards her Hand.

“Tell me, Lady Sansa, what really happened with Lord Tyrion? Why did you reject him?”

The change in subject was both a relief and surprise to Sansa. She had been expertly set-up, Daenerys revealing enough about her past to show Sansa that more could be on offer between them, making it the perfect jumping off point for a conversation about today. They had been circling around something, Daenerys leading them close to it, but at the last moment she backed away. Sansa thought she should be thankful that propriety had been maintained but she was flustered just the same and needed to regain control.

“It is pointless to discuss this, your Grace,” Sansa warned, sitting straighter in her chair.

“How so? You said you would discuss it at a later date. That time has come,” laughed Daenerys, noticing Sansa’s unease, hoping humor would reach her.

“It is pointless because he is your Hand and I am of the North.”

“Jon bent the knee. The North is mine, Lady Sansa.”

Sansa smiled without warmth. Conceding the point without having to concede her loyalty. _And if it wasn’t his to give?_ She was irritated but had to get back to friendly conversation and needed to answer Daenerys’s question about why she rejected him. Instead of a guarded answer, she decided to reveal some of what made Tyrion important to her.

“Loyalties aside, the truth is part of me loves him. I am attracted to him. I trust him, he is safe and he wouldn’t harm me. But sleeping with him felt more like the end of something rather than the beginning. The end of the story of a naïve girl who escaped a lion’s den and only afterwards could see that there had been one man trying to help her. Every bad thing that happened to the girl after her escape only served to elevate that man in her mind. How kind he had been, how he refused to force himself on her. But I am not that young girl anymore and while I am grateful, I will no longer put Tyrion on a pedestal for being the only one who acted decently on my behalf. If love grows between us, then I will have it be because of the people we are today and not because I’m afraid of being hurt by anyone else. But as long as he serves you, I won’t allow myself to consider him.”

“Am I really all that bad, Lady Sansa?” Daenerys asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

Daenerys knew she exposed herself to a hurtful reply. But Sansa’s description of her view of Tyrion had disarmed her. Tyrion meant more to her than Daenerys had realized. And she could see that Sansa was coming into her own powers as a woman, exploring possibilities. Possibilities that might include her except Sansa may as well have just said ‘I won’t allow myself to consider you’. The rejection Daenerys felt bothered her.

“Weeks ago I would’ve said yes,” Sansa replied. Daenerys wouldn’t have believed a ‘no’ so she had to lure Daenerys into trust by implying a change of heart. She took another sip of her wine, feeling it swirl over her tongue. Looking at how expectant Daenerys looked, her eyes shining in the firelight, her fingers gripping the armrests of her chair lightly, it wasn’t a queen that was looking at her but a beautiful young woman who was lonely. This was better, now Sansa felt like she had the upper hand.

“And now?” asked Daenerys in a thin voice.

Sansa saw how Daenerys’s demeanor changed again, how she had stiffened, preparing herself for harsher words. And she could cut her down right now if she wanted. Break her the way Cersei had so often tried to do with her in King’s Landing. Sansa took a breath and softened. Some teasing would lighten the mood.

“And now… maybe only mostly bad.”

“An improvement that I will hold up for all to see,” smiled Daenerys. “Hopefully one day soon that will change to only a little bad.”

Daenerys was thankful to have the tension between them ease. She had felt the coldness creep into Sansa when they came close to questions of her loyalty.

“A little bad is still bad, your Grace,” reminded Sansa, a hint of a smile on her lips.

“And yet it is a step closer to being in your favor and that means more to me than you know.”

“So now you want my favor? Should I be looking for the perfect winter rose so that you can press it in between the pages of a favorite book of love songs?” Sansa inwardly shook her head. This went beyond teasing. And the exchange earlier about her handmaiden warned her that Daenerys knew how to play this type of game better than she did.

Daenerys smirked and Sansa smiled in return, refusing to show weakness, but inside Sansa was afraid, afraid of the exhilaration she felt at how Daenerys would respond in this next round of words.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 (_mixed POV_)

“A book? Aren’t there better places to press a winter rose?” Daenerys asked softly, her left hand moving a few inches from the armrest of her chair to the armrest of Sansa’s chair. Sansa looked down at her hand but made no move to object.

Daenerys didn’t know why she permitted this flirtation to continue. Hadn’t Sansa just rejected her earlier? And hadn’t she also backed away from pushing Sansa after she’d cornered her with talk of Doreah? _I’m not the only one; she’s flirting with me, too._

“Only if you’re not afraid of causing it damage,” answered Sansa, a blush rising up across her neck. _Did I really just say that?_

“What if a little bruising actually improves its glow?” asked Daenerys, openly looking at Sansa’s neck before looking up into her eyes.

Sansa couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped and she turned toward the fire to steady herself. They were back again to circling around that something that could never happen and this time it was Sansa that had started it. It was dangerous and yet, in spite of her earlier recriminations to herself about what had happened today, she liked it too much to stop. She knew she should back away but she also wanted to see how much closer to the line Daenerys would take this if she let her.

“Winter roses are delicate things and should be handled with care,” warned Sansa, looking towards Daenerys, returning Daenerys’s soft gaze.

It was Daenerys’s turn to take a small breath and turn to the fire. Sansa took the opportunity to look upon her appearance. The small, pleased upturn of her mouth, her hair, her skin, the hand that remained on the armrest of her chair, its presence in Sansa’s space like a tether to her core. The air was thick now, the tension taut. Her breathing felt steady in spite of her racing heart but Daenerys was the picture of serenity. There were no signs that she was uncomfortable with where this might lead. _And why would she be? She is much more experienced at this than I am. Older. Beautiful. But surely she knows it’s time to stop._

Daenerys briefly looked at the fire and pondered the shift in Sansa that she sensed. Her words were a warning but seemingly also a dare to push further. Would Sansa allow a kiss? Turning back, she let her eyes slowly linger on Sansa’s lips, communicating her intent, giving Sansa a chance to turn away. Then she looked into her eyes, waiting. She felt nervous and it wasn’t often that she did, not about a kiss. Daenerys liked the feeling.

“I know how to be gentle, too, Lady Sansa,” said Daenerys softly, leaning towards Sansa, thankful that she had placed the chairs close together.

Just before Daenerys said this, Sansa caught a passing look of shy excitement on Daenerys’s face. Not the practiced queen, not the teasing woman who enjoyed unsettling her. _Could she be feeling this as much as I am?_ Sansa wondered, not quite believing it.

“Are we still talking about flowers, your Grace?” asked Sansa in a breathy voice, leaning ever so slightly towards her. She would go no further, making Daenerys decide whether to close the distance but the tilt of Sansa’s face implied willingness. _Am I really not going to stop this? Would one kiss ruin everything?_

Daenerys could see that Sansa looked conflicted. The thought of seeing regret or disgust on Sansa’s face if she leaned in further gave her pause. She’d had enough of that sort of thing from Jon. Sansa must have sensed her hesitation for she suddenly stood up and took a few steps to one side of the hearth, placing one hand on the stone wall, while Daenerys took a few deep breaths to center herself. _She’s Jon’s sister, what were you thinking?_ After a few moments, Sansa spoke.

“We’re friends now, are we not, your Grace?” she asked quietly. _That was too close! _Sansa berated herself. _She’s playing with you, Sansa. Don’t fall for it._

“I don’t know, Lady Sansa. I think we could be. But… much is unspoken about what you’re really after in these conversations we’ve been having,” Daenerys answered slowly. “I don’t know if a real friendship is possible until I know where you stand.”

Daenerys left it vague enough for Sansa to decide what ‘unspoken’ things she was referring to: Sansa’s aim for a free North or their connection just now and that incident in the snow earlier today.

Sansa continued to stare at the wall in front of her. She knew exactly what Daenerys was alluding to but how could she address that when she didn’t even understand it herself?

“It isn’t obvious?” Sansa asked in a soft voice, trying to contain the haughtiness within that wanted to lash out; Daenerys had weakened her, made her act in ways that didn’t make any sense. She pressed her hand firmly against the stone wall, trying to will its hardness into her.

“Of course it’s obvious. But remind me. So I know how to respond. How to guard myself from giving you my… favor,” Daenerys said, chastising herself for her near mistake and the almost pleading nature of her tone. She’d almost said ‘heart’. She steeled her voice and said, “So I know how far I can trust you.”

Daenerys stood up and stepped behind her chair, staring hard at Sansa, armoring herself against the cold Lady Stark she thought was about to be unleashed upon her.

“The North has had enough of wars and southern rulers. Houses have been decimated by infighting and treachery. I want the North to be free,” breathed Sansa. Her mind sighed within itself, feeling her mistake. She had sought to place distance between them and instead reminded Daenerys of why she was not to be trusted. _You must contain this anger, Sansa, or you risk everything_.

“And what will happen to the other kingdoms if I give that to you?” asked Daenerys evenly, her voice betraying nothing of the anger that was building within her. _It’ll always be the North with her._

_I don’t care_, Sansa wanted to reply selfishly. But reason forced her to be truthful.

“Dorne and the Iron Islands might rebel. Maybe others,” replied Sansa, still staring at the wall.

“More war, Lady Sansa. And don’t we _all_ deserve peace after these years of tumult?”

Daenerys struggled to keep her composure. When Sansa had asked about the North soon after she’d arrived at Winterfell she’d lost her temper. She hadn’t been prepared for rebelliousness back then and she knew she had difficulties in responding to disagreements with others. But that was then. Walking over to stand behind Sansa, she softened. This didn’t have to devolve into anger. Too much has happened between them to not try a different approach. Daenerys raised a hand to touch her shoulder but she closed it into a fist and brought it back down. If she could only convince Sansa of her good intentions.

“I know you and your family have suffered. The North has suffered. Not just at the hands of the Lannisters and their allies but because of geography. You were the first line of defense against the dead and you were largely left on your own to fight them. My armies helped but not much else of Westeros did and I understand how you could feel like you don’t owe us anymore. I won’t forget your sacrifices, Lady Sansa. I won’t forget the North. I will help you rebuild. I will help replenish what you’ve lost and I will allow House Stark and the other houses of the North to determine for themselves who will ascend to the various open seats like the Dreadfort and Last Hearth. You’ve earned that sort of autonomy. My rule will not be tyrannical. All will have a say. And… I will never force a marriage of alliance on you. You will choose whether or not you will ever remarry.”

Sansa slowly turned around, tears welling in her eyes. She could tell Daenerys believed all that she said and she was surprisingly moved by it, the previous moment’s fury dissipating in an instant. Sansa then thought of her family. This was a Targaryen in front of her. It was true that there was tremendous potential for good but there was also potential for catastrophic destruction. To trust her felt like a leap of faith and the leap was just too far. But they had reached the point where further defiance would end what she was trying to do. Sansa needed Daenerys to believe that she was not a threat.

“We do deserve peace,” Sansa replied, blinking her tears away.

“That doesn’t tell me where you stand, Lady Sansa,” said Daenerys, taking a step back in frustration.

“I’m trying, your Grace. Why do you think I’ve been doing this? To know you, to get rid of my reservations, to trust you. It’s truly hard for me to surrender control. Even with Jon I have found it difficult to trust his judgement.”

“I have seen how you openly question him. You do not consider yourself subject to his authority.”

“Jon leads men into battle and they follow him gladly. He is a good and honorable man and I should’ve been a better sister to him growing up. But he doesn’t really understand the nuances of people’s natures and that type of knowledge is what a good ruler needs.”

Daenerys’s eyes narrowed and realized what Sansa had just said. She felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her.

“You know, don’t you? He told you.”

“Arya and I are his family,” replied Sansa, standing straight, ready to face wrath and accusation.

“So am I, apparently,” answered Daenerys after a pause. She went back to her chair and sat down, looking into the fire. It was burning low and the wood was nearly all cinders and ash. _Sansa knows; she will turn against me._

Sansa was surprised by this response but it was a good sign that she’d made enough progress in developing their friendship. She grabbed a piece of wood and put it on the fire. They both watched the flames nearly smother out but then flare up around the new log. Daenerys looked up at her with an empty expression and Sansa knew she thought their friendship was over. It was time to reassure her, to be the confidante to Daenerys she’d told Arya she could be. She sat down in her chair and waited for Daenerys to speak.

“All this time I thought I was the last Targaryen. I should be ecstatic by this discovery. But circumstances…”

“You mean northern sensibilities,” Sansa said gently. That got a small smile out of Daenerys and Sansa was glad that her humor remained.

“Your Grace, perhaps he just needs more time to adjust to the new situation. He still loves you and…”

“I know he still loves me. It radiates off of him and calls to me whenever I see him but do you know what else I see? Disgust. Self-loathing. Even if he could somehow accept our kinship, how can I ever forget this abandonment? How can I trust him? It can never be like it was, no matter what happens in the future.”

“He’s an idiot,” Sansa said, shaking her head in exasperation. “I told him so to his face.”

“So you do not think it’s wrong, he and I together?” Daenerys asked, surprised by Sansa’s admission that she’d scolded Jon.

“It’s what your family does,” Sansa said quietly.

“You’re very good at deflecting, Lady Sansa. I actually don’t care what anyone else thinks. Jon and I fell in love before we knew.”

Sansa hesitated. A true friend would offer this. She swallowed thickly before speaking.

“If your Grace wishes, I can speak with him.”

Daenerys was surprised at the offer but then shook her head.

“Thank you, Lady Sansa, but the last thing I want is someone begging him on my behalf. I’d much rather learn what you’re going to do now that you know.”

“I swore never to tell. Only he can release me from that vow.”

“And will he?”

“No. We both know Jon is a terrible liar. If he has told you that he doesn’t want the throne then he means it. You will have the throne with his full support.”

“That won’t matter if his parentage becomes known. Will you keep your vow, Lady Sansa?”

Sansa could feel the tension growing as Daenerys asked more direct questions.

“Yes,” Sansa answered honestly. However she couldn’t resist a diplomatic warning. “But the alliance between the North and yourself goes both ways.”

Daenerys understood it as the ever-present impasse between them. She sighed.

“Do you intend to harm me?” Daenerys asked, looking into Sansa’s eyes, bracing herself for any hint of betrayal. It would either be a truth or a lie and she tried not to think about how it would crush her to see a lie.

“No, your Grace,” replied Sansa steadily. She put all of her warmer moments with Daenerys into her words. It was the biggest, most important lie in their ‘friendship’ so far and Sansa needed Daenerys to believe it completely. In the moment she thought of Daenerys’s laughter, of how gently her fingers had touched her, of how Daenerys felt underneath her, of how dark her eyes had gotten when they stared up at her in desire in the snow, of how they had nearly kissed just before this argument. That part of her, as much as she’d been trying to suppress it, did not want Daenerys harmed at all. Sansa clung to those thoughts to make her face seem earnest, to prevent Daenerys from seeing the truth and her guilt.

Daenerys stared at Sansa, going over her words. It was as if they were at the beginning; the North still between them but no evidence that Sansa intended treachery. Back then she thought she would come out of this with a victory; whether she’d won Sansa’s trust or not, these interactions publicly showed an alliance between them and a betrayal would be properly punished. Daenerys hadn’t meant to grow so close to her. She hadn’t meant to put her heart at risk. _But can I trust her? What is the point of these continued meetings now that I’ve reasserted my claim over the North? What am I missing?_

Sansa answered Daenerys’s hard stare with a patient one. She could tell that Daenerys was deciding whether this friendship between them should continue.

“When do you want me?” asked Daenerys, leaning forward.

“What?” stammered Sansa. Did Daenerys mistake her look for desire?

“For needlework. I can’t promise that my hands will be as adept as yours but I am a quick study.”

Sansa laughed nervously. “Our conversation is covering a lot of ground tonight, isn’t it?”

“I like you, Lady Sansa,” Daenerys said, a serious expression on her face. “I don’t have any friends here other than my own people. I’ve lost so much and have seemingly gained nothing. But you’ve given me a chance, taken me around to get to know your people. And I won’t be here for much longer. Even if we’re at odds over what you want, I feel like that doesn’t have to be an impediment. Can we still be friends?”

Daenerys reached her left hand toward Sansa and without hesitation Sansa took it with her right. She saw that Sansa seemed startled at how quickly she’d done so. They both looked down at their joined hands and she resisted letting her thumb rub over Sansa’s knuckles. Sansa, however, seemed to not heed what propriety demanded of them. Seeing and feeling Sansa’s thumb softly caress her fingers, she looked up at Sansa. Her blues eyes were fixed on their hands, thinking, and Daenerys dared not interrupt for fear Sansa would stop.

The flurry of topics had rattled Sansa’s focus and she welcomed the silence they shared right now. She only barely registered that her thumb was moving over Daenerys’s fingers. Sansa took several calming breaths before turning her focus back to needlepoint. That seemed a safer subject and she was glad Daenerys had directed their conversation away from their diverging political ambitions.

“It takes steady hands, nimble fingers, and patience. I’m not sure about your patience but I think your fingers are capable.” Sansa’s eyes widened slightly, realizing how her words could be played with.

Daenerys smirked knowingly. Still holding Sansa’s hand she finally allowed her thumb free rein. Just small circles but she enjoyed the flushed look that grew on Sansa’s face. She had lost herself earlier but the balance had shifted back in her favor.

“After the midday meal tomorrow then? Where shall I meet you?”

“My rooms,” Sansa said and then corrected, “My solar.” She released Daenerys’s hand and stood up. The heat that had grown just from Daenerys’s thumb on her hand was very distracting. Double meanings and flirtation were just words but physical touch was something else altogether. There had been quite enough of that already.

“Then I will bid you goodnight, Lady Sansa,” said Daenerys, standing up and glancing to the door that led to her bedchamber.

Sansa noticed Daenerys’s glance and directed an anxious look at the same door but then she bit the inside of her cheek and walked to the door that led to the corridor. _Don’t think about her bedchamber._

“Goodnight, your Grace. You may bring Missandei tomorrow, if you wish. Arya has never liked needlework or knitting and it can be more fun when there are more women in the room.”

“Yes, it can,” replied Daenerys, her voice low. “I will pass along your desire for more women to Missandei.”

Now fully flustered, Sansa grasped the latch and exited, brushing past Grey Worm without a word, trying not to picture the implications of those last words.

With Sansa gone and the door closed, Daenerys released the laughter she’d been holding in. _Yes, I think we covered a LOT of ground tonight. _

Daenerys went back to her chair, looking at the fire. Before the dinner she was certain of their mutual attraction and that awareness made her look for further signs. The flustered interest she’d shown in Daenerys’s sexual past was one indication. And in the midst of awkwardness, arguments, and difficult subjects, Sansa had most definitely flirted and Daenerys had flirted in return. She shouldn’t have done so; it was foolish and reckless and it made her vulnerable. But knowing that Sansa was trying to resist made it all the more tempting. _To what end?_ _This can’t happen, not if I have any hope of working things out with Jon. And how she reacted when the North was discussed... It’s time to stop. Tease but don’t cross the line._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, the burn is so slow. Is it obvious I enjoy tv shows with a long will-they-won’t-they component? Lots of angst, tension, and conflict in this story. Sansa’s plot but also love triangles. I have no qualms exploring how love and longing can be felt for more than one person at the same time so just a heads up if that’s something that bothers you. This is still very much a Sansa/Daenerys romance, and all pov’s will be from one or the other, but the complication of Dany finding herself attracted to Sansa while still wanting to be with Jon is very interesting to me. The stakes and responsibilities of these characters in the world of GoT and season 8 are also present. As the chapters progress and the attraction escalates (yes, it will definitely escalate, please be patient), we will see how these things poke holes in this romantic bubble Sansa and Dany are building around themselves.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Sansa opened her eyes the following morning not wishing to get out of bed. There was soreness in the muscles of her thighs and she had to remind herself that it was from riding horseback yesterday. But then that brought on memories of the other things that happened yesterday and she cringed. There was also a hint of wetness between her legs and when she threw back the bed coverings, she saw the evidence of her moonblood. Fortunately it would be light and only last a few days and Sansa sighed in relief. The moon tea she’d taken after the night with Tyrion had done its work. _Has it really been a little over a week since that night? So much has happened since then. _

She got out of the bed and began washing up and while she did so she thought on last night’s dinner with Daenerys. The argument about the North, Jon, a moment where she thought Daenerys might kiss her and the guilty realization that she encouraged it. Sansa finished dressing, sat on a chair, and sighed. The way Daenerys had looked beneath her in the snow… Instead of pushing the memory away, she explored it, slowed the action down in her mind, felt the pressure of Daenerys’s hands against her own. Yesterday she had kept asking herself why it had happened but that was because she didn’t want to admit the truth to herself. Even last night, after she’d gotten back to her rooms from dinner she didn’t want to admit it. But today it was perfectly clear that she felt an attraction towards her. Sansa felt flushed even now, just thinking about her. Her smile, the way her eyes crinkled when she did so.

How could this have happened? Had allowing herself to explore the possibilities of a physical connection with another person really awakened her lusts so much that her adversary would become an object of desire? _It’s Tyrion’s fault I’m in this perpetual state of arousal. If we hadn’t slept together I wouldn’t be susceptible at all to Daenerys’s supposed charms, the ones Arya warned me about._ She then scoffed at herself, dismissing those arguments. It would be foolish to try to blame Tyrion. Her sexual awakening, if one could call it that, had started before that night and while Sansa couldn’t deny that she’d become more aware and open to those things since being with him, she’s the one who was choosing to continue placing herself in Daenerys’s path, she’s the one who started flirting last night, and she’s the one that was having these feelings. Sansa scowled. Despite what Daenerys seemed to think of her ‘northern sensibilities’, Sansa was not inclined to dismiss her attraction to a woman out of hand. It was the particular woman in question that was the problem. Then again, even if Daenerys wasn’t a queen out to conquer the Iron Throne, if she was just another noblewoman or even a handmaiden, Sansa couldn’t act on these feelings. Her responsibilities, the continuation of House Stark which demanded trueborn heirs, the honor and respect the North held for her, those things would be endangered if she did and it became known.

Sansa had suspected Daenerys felt similarly; the touch on her back, the way Daenerys had pressed up against her in the snow, all the flirtation. That near kiss after dinner had her convinced at the time but now in the cold bright morning, she wasn’t so sure. It had to be a ploy Daenerys thought of to take advantage of her in some way. In any event, Sansa needed to control herself. It was permissible to be vulnerable to continue the friendship, because it was obvious that Daenerys enjoyed toying with her and Sansa could use that, but not vulnerable enough that she submitted entirely. But it was difficult to find the middle ground between being at each other’s throats and thinking of more pleasurable things to _do_ to each other’s throats.

_Her throat is lovely._

Standing up, Sansa braced herself for the day. Once again, an incident between them needed to be overcome. Her only answer was to pretend it hadn’t happened at all and hope that Daenerys had the sense to play along and maintain decorum.

_Nothing untoward can happen while doing needlepoint_, she assured herself. _Especially if Daenerys brings Missandei._

*::::*

Daenerys nodded in greeting to Sansa in the Great Hall before sitting down to break her fast. She noted that Sansa had already finished and was rising to leave. She wondered if Sansa would come over to speak with her. She smiled when she saw she didn’t have to wonder for long.

“Good morning, your Grace. I have much on my agenda this morning so I must leave. Are we still set for this afternoon?”

“Yes, and I look forward to it. I’m sure I’ll be a disaster at whatever you have planned for me but I promise to be an attentive student.”

Sansa flashed a small smile and said, “We shall see. Enjoy your morning, your Grace.”

She resisted watching Sansa walk out of the hall. It would’ve been too obvious to onlookers. A servant brought her plate but before she could begin eating, Jon approached her. She hadn’t even noticed him enter.

“Your Grace, may I speak with you after the meal?”

Daenerys casually put down her utensils. Jon looked nervous about something.

Without any hint of warmth, she said, “Of course, Lord Snow. I was thinking of a short walk around part of the perimeter of Winterfell. Shall we meet at the Hunter’s Gate?”

“Aye, that will be fine,” he answered curtly and walked away, not staying to eat alongside her.

She used to look forward to their times alone together and now she dreaded them. Daenerys sighed and quickly ate a few bites before rising from the table. No one else approached her and she wished Sansa was with her. At least she would see her this afternoon. She walked back to her rooms to put on a cloak and gloves. Missandei was there.

“Another outing with Lady Stark before your needlework lesson, your Grace?” Missandei asked with a hint of a smile.

Daenerys chuckled. “If only that were so. Jon wants to speak with me.” She grabbed her cloak and gloves.

Missandei gave a sympathetic look and helped fix the cloak onto her queen but said nothing about Jon. She knew this would be difficult for Daenerys.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you for your lesson this afternoon?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Daenerys smiled in reply. “You two deserve some time and I’m afraid I’ve been using him far too much on my evening activities as of late.”

“Yes you have,” answered Missandei, looking as if she wanted to ask a question but thinking better of it. Daenerys ignored it, not wanting to hear about any warnings against her meetings with Sansa.

“I’ll see you back here in a little while,” said Daenerys, leaving her room.

Daenerys and Grey Worm walked quickly to the Hunter’s Gate where Jon was already waiting.

“You ate quickly,” he said.

“I wanted to get this over with,” she answered. Daenerys said a few words to Grey Worm and he turned to walk away. She and Jon may not be getting along but she still trusted him enough to be alone with him.

They walked through the gate and she motioned that they turn right, to walk north toward the north gate where Grey Worm would be waiting. Neither of them said anything at first and her irritation at his presence eventually gave way to other feelings she’d been trying to suppress. Like the warmth she felt when their arms occasionally brushed up against each other. Or the way her heartbeat quickened when she saw his facial expression relax from a scowl to a smile.

“I was surprised when you decided to delay the attack on King’s Landing. And when you sent a portion of your armies to White Harbor. May I ask what changed your mind? I spoke with Tyrion but it appears you have not been as forthcoming with him lately.”

“Are you saying you want to go to war now? I thought you would be happy that your men would receive more time to recover.”

He glanced at her but then looked ahead again. “In truth, I am glad of the decision. The men had reached the kind of exhaustion that leads to mistakes. They need to recover their physical strength as well as their strength of mind. Thank you for reconsidering.”

Daenerys nodded in reply and they continued walking in silence. They would soon be at the north gate and he still hadn’t said what was on his mind. She could tell he realized this as well because the scowl returned. Suddenly he grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop.

“Dany, I need to tell you that I told my sisters,” Jon said at last. She could see the worry on his face and she was disappointed. He obviously expected a rebuke.

“I know. I spoke to Sansa last night.”

“Sansa? What do you mean?” he asked, releasing her arm.

“Well, I’ve had to do something with all the extra time on my hands,” Daenerys said exasperatedly, implying her displeasure at the distance he’d put between them. But she was tired of arguing. Sighing, she said, “I’m sorry. I’ll try that again. As I’m sure you’re aware, she and I have been spending time together, getting to know one other. We spoke last night and it came out that you had told her.”

“She swore to me she wouldn’t tell anyone,” Jon said, annoyed.

“Jon, don’t be angry with her. Technically she has held true to her vow. It’s not as if she shared it with someone who didn’t know. And you’d already told me of your intention to tell your sisters so I knew she would know at some point. Did you expect her to pretend and avoid the topic with me altogether?”

“No, I suppose not.” They continued walking.

“Do not be concerned. We were alone and spoke softly. I doubt we’ll speak of it again.”

“Does this mean you two are friends now?” Jon asked in disbelief.

“We are working on it,” replied Daenerys diplomatically. “I hope that we’ll be friends before it’s time to leave Winterfell.”

“She called me an idiot, did she tell you that?” he asked with a small laugh, stopping again to face her.

“Yes,” Daenerys said with a smile. She removed her glove and reached her hand to his cheek. “But you’re my idiot. Aren’t you?”

Jon clasped his hand to hers and closed his eyes. Again she felt the hope creep within her that he would accept their love. Then Jon squeezed her hand and brought it down from his cheek.

“Come. Let’s get you back inside,” he whispered.

Daenerys nodded her head, not even bothering to try to push him. She felt the love between them when she touched his skin; it was a spark, ready to flare up into a passionate flame if he would only let it. But there was only so much rejection she could take and it was getting to the point where she had to decide whether or not to keep trying. _I can’t give him up, not yet._

They walked in silence the rest of the way to the gate and when they walked through it, she took her leave of him and headed for her rooms. Missandei was waiting for her in her bedchamber with what she hoped was a final fitting of a new dress she wanted to wear. The sadness she’d felt with Jon disappeared at her anticipation of Sansa’s response to it this afternoon.

*::::*

Sansa felt more in her element as she prepared her solar for Daenerys’s arrival. Servants had brought small plates of dried meats and cheeses along with wine and water. The midday meal had only just ended but she wanted to be prepared in case Daenerys or her friend required more refreshment. And she’d set out various examples of past and current projects to show them. Sansa told herself that they were only to point out different types of designs and stitching but the pride in her was anxious to hear Daenerys’s opinion of her skill.

She rearranged the pillows on the cushioned chair she’d had put near the fire and heard a light knock on the door. Sansa took a calming breath and went to open it. Daenerys was standing there with a different Unsullied soldier a few paces behind but that wasn’t what took her breath away. It was the dress she wore. A very northern dress. Daenerys seemed to be pleased with the reaction she got out of Sansa and walked in without a word. Sansa closed the door and continued to stare at the new dress. It had long flared sleeves and a simple pattern threaded in the fabric that allowed itself to blend in with any embroidered embellishments the wearer wanted to have added. The dress was similar in style to the one Sansa wore last night and the color was even more striking. Stark grey.

“You weren’t wearing this earlier in the day,” Sansa wondered aloud.

“I sent Missandei to purchase two dresses from a shop in Winter town soon after our first visit there, this one and a dark blue one, and Missandei only just finished the adjustments for it to fit me properly. Do you like it?”

“Yes,” she said with a warm smile. “I know your usual wear makes it easier to ride dragons but this dress is very becoming.” Sansa completely forgot her plan to maintain a friendly aloofness. It was as if Daenerys knew that after the previous night Sansa would not let her guard down again so easily.

“Thank you, Lady Sansa,” Daenerys said softly. She looked around and Sansa motioned to the cushioned chair for her to sit at. A small table was set in between that chair and Sansa’s own chair, not just to provide a space for needlework supplies but to provide a buffer between them. She also set a chair to the other side of Daenerys’s chair, expecting Missandei, but apparently it would not be needed and so Sansa lifted it and moved it back to the larger table at the other end of the room.

After Daenerys had sat down, Sansa looked again at the dress. She felt a strange possessiveness toward Daenerys now that she was wearing Stark colors. It only needed a wolf sigil and the image of Daenerys belonging to House Stark would be complete. Without thinking, Sansa reached a hand to touch Daenerys on her left shoulder.

“An embroidered design can be added here, if you like. Down from the shoulder and just over the left side of the chest. I think a dragon or three-headed dragon using a deep red thread would work. I could do it but it would take several weeks.”

“That would be wonderful, thank you. I’ll have the dress brushed and brought to you tomorrow.”

“It would be my pleasure, your Grace,” answered Sansa, only just now realizing that her hand was still on Daenerys’s shoulder. She slowly removed her hand and moved to sit in her own chair.

“I think you should wear this tonight at the dinner meal. Jon will not be able to take his eyes off you.”

“I highly doubt that, Lady Sansa.”

“Wear it. I assure you, he will be quite taken with it.”

Sansa glanced down, trying not to imply how much she herself was taken with it. “If more formal agreements are made between you, I can also add a wolf to the other shoulder,” she suggested.

“A red wolf?” asked Daenerys with a smirk. At Sansa’s sharp glance, she added, “I assume you would use the same red thread as the dragon.”

“White thread would be more striking, your Grace,” answered Sansa, relieved that Daenerys would not be restarting last night’s flirtation. “It refers to him and the color of his direwolf.”

“Of course,” said Daenerys politely, a strained expression now on her face. “But we are getting ahead of ourselves. Your brother has quite made up his mind about me.”

“Wear it tonight anyway. Maybe adjust the braids in your hair to a more northern style. You and I will laugh at all the men who glance your way.” Sansa smiled and tried to control her blush as she imagined how Daenerys would look tonight.

Daenerys laughed. “I will do so since you wish it. And you will sit with me tonight? Sitting next to Jon has been dreadful as of late and it will be nice to have dinner conversation with someone less brooding.”

Sansa said that she would and then stood up to go to the table with the examples of her needlepoint projects. She took a deep breath and then brought over a blank canvas framed by a small wood circle and handed it to Daenerys who placed it on her lap. On the small table she placed a couple of spools of thread, one loose cut of thread, and a couple of needles. Then she stood behind a seated Daenerys for the initial instructions. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized she would have to bend over a bit, perhaps even touch her hands.

“I’m sure you’ve seen these things before but indulge me. It isn’t often I get to teach a queen. We’re going to do needlepoint on canvas. This is your canvas. The wood frame on it isn’t always necessary for this work but it does make it easier. I chose a more coarsely weaved canvas so that you can easily see the canvas threads. Do you know how to thread a needle?”

Daenerys nodded and took a needle and the loose length of thread off the small table, easily threading the needle and tied a knot at the end of the thread farthest from the needle.

“Good. I’m not going to bother with waste knots since I just want to show you some simple stitching. If you decide to take it up, we can meet again another time for a beginner design. Have you ever mended a hole in your clothes or anyone else’s?”

“I think so. It was very long ago, though. It’s probably how I knew to knot the end of the thread but that’s as far as my knowledge goes.”

“Well, this won’t be the same as mending but it’s similar.” Sansa grabbed her own canvas that already had a needle and thread pushed through from the bottom. She held it in front of Daenerys and said, “This is called a stem stitch. It’s very basic and it can be used to outline a design or for lettering.”

Sansa demonstrated how the stitching moved along the row from right to left. In a soft voice she said, “Now your turn.”

She put her canvas down on the little table and placed one hand on the back of Daenerys’s chair and leaned a bit more over her shoulder. Daenerys pushed the needle through the underside of the canvas until the knot caught on the back. Then she proceeded to make a stitch. Sansa nodded in approval, her body growing warm at the proximity to Daenerys. When Daenerys turned to her and smiled, her nose brushed against Sansa’s cheek, and Sansa quickly stood straight, cleared her throat, and returned to her own chair.

“Now make twenty stitches total on that row. After that I’ll show you how to move to the next row.”

They sat silently working on their canvases, until Daenerys spoke.

“I thought women did a lot of talking during these gatherings.”

Sansa smiled. “We do usually. I suppose I’ve gotten used to doing this by myself. It helps relax me and clear my mind.”

“I know some other activities that do the same thing,” Daenerys said with a mischievous smile.

This time Sansa was not shocked by Daenerys’s words. Maybe it was because she’d expected it or maybe it was because she realized she enjoyed the bawdy humor.

She pursed her lips with what she hoped was a knowing smile and said, “Except with needlepoint I don’t have to worry about feeling soiled afterwards.”

“Well, you don’t _have_ to worry about it, Lady Sansa.”

Sansa laughed and tried not to blush. “Fair point, your Grace.”

“So what other subjects get discussed in these gatherings of women? I assume gossip about court and husbands.”

“Any topic we want. Share confidences, humorous stories, it’s just a chance for women to be together without men around to interrupt.”

“Well in the interest of sharing gossip, I assume you’ve noticed that my friend Missandei is not here. Would you like to know why?”

Sansa nodded, looking up from her canvas and curious about what kept Missandei away.

“Did you also notice that I came with a different Unsullied guard out in the corridor?”

“Yes, I did.”

“It’s because Missandei has an assignation with Grey Worm right now.”

“Isn’t he…?”

“Yes. “

“And they still…?”

“Yes,” replied Daenerys emphatically.

“How?”

“Lady Sansa, I’m sure you’re familiar by now with the ways women achieve their pleasure with a partner. And if not, I shall have to scold Lord Tyrion. Or do you need me to give you more… explicit explanations?”

“No, I… know to what you refer,” Sansa answered, a deep blush burning down her cheeks and neck. Was Daenerys going to suggest ‘instruction’?

They sat silently for a few more moments, Daenerys working on finishing her row, a smirk on her face. Sansa stabbed at her canvas. She was angry with herself for letting Daenerys get to her again. The sharp pain in her finger made her cry out.

“Did you stick yourself with the pointy end?” Daenerys asked innocently.

Sansa glared at her but her false innocence had its intended effect and she laughed. “How is your row?”

“Done,” replied Daenerys, holding her canvas up proudly. “But if you don’t mind, perhaps we should set these aside? I’d like to look over those pieces on the table over there.”

“Of course,” answered Sansa, pleased with Daenerys’s suggestion.

Standing next to each other, Daenerys picked up different unfinished pieces and Sansa described the work and what the finished product should look like. With the finished works, Daenerys flattered Sansa with praise at her skill and the delicate designs. Excited, Sansa would grab pieces that Daenerys reached for, and their hands would frequently brush against each other. Their words stayed on topic but their quickened breathing implied other things were on their minds. At one point Daenerys reached and grabbed her hand. Sansa resisted looking up and stared silently at their joined fingers. Sansa knew Daenerys was looking at her face but she didn’t want to see the question in her eyes. She didn’t want either of them to address what was happening because it wasn’t real. If she ignored it, it would go away.

Eventually Daenerys pulled her hand away and Sansa finally looked up at her.

“These are all very beautiful, Lady Sansa. I look forward to seeing the final design on my dress,” Daenerys said gently.

“Thank you, your Grace,” answered Sansa, not able to resist glancing down at the dress, trying to picture the dragon she would embroider if this friendship was genuine. The thought made her sad and when she looked up, Daenerys looked away quickly. _What was she looking at?_

“I shall take my leave now. Thank you very much for the lesson.”

“Are you sure, there’s meat and cheese here if you’re still hungry?” Sansa winced at her slightly desperate tone but she told herself that she was just being polite.

“That was very thoughtful of you, Lady Sansa, but I think it’s better if I leave now,” said Daenerys, looking down. Sansa could see she seemed uncomfortable and wondered if she’d done anything wrong. “I will see you at dinner in the Great Hall. Remember, you’re to sit next to me tonight.”

“I look forward to it,” Sansa said with a smile.

After Daenerys left, Sansa sat down feeling relieved. _That dress_, she thought. But at least neither of them forgot themselves today, that hand holding moment notwithstanding. Sansa smiled again. She most definitely looked forward to seeing everyone’s faces tonight.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Daenerys arrived to dinner in the Great Hall early to make sure the seating arrangements she requested were obeyed. Jon, who was not there yet, would be sitting on her right but the chairs had adjusted so that Sansa would sit on her left. She slowly sipped her wine while she waited for Sansa to arrive and ignored some of the stares she received from the northerners already in the hall. She inwardly smiled, knowing they were shocked at the dress and how her hair was styled. It was still the same number of braids but more of her hair was loose across her shoulders. Missandei had been surprised but she went along with helping her and was now sitting with Davos, observing how everyone reacted to the queen’s attire.

Fortunately Daenerys didn’t have to wait long for Sansa, who entered and briskly walked towards the high table, eyes finding hers and the smile on Sansa’s face filled Daenerys with longing. It had only been a few hours since she’d been in her solar but that feeling she had while looking at the various needlework pieces had been so strong she had taken hold of Sansa’s hand and it took all of her willpower to refrain from pulling her into a kiss. If Sansa had looked up instead of staying focused on their hands, she definitely would have, and the prospect of losing control like that frightened her. Daenerys had left the solar as quickly as she could. As Sansa sat down next to her, Daenerys took a deep breath to remind herself that she couldn’t pursue her.

“You look exactly how I imagined,” Sansa whispered admiringly, eyeing her before turning towards the hall.

Daenerys liked that her appearance pleased Sansa. She felt like skipping this dinner altogether and instead inviting Sansa to dine alone with her again. Swallowing the words, she sighed and looked out towards the hall.

“I see they are already staring,” Sansa said with a look around. “Has Jon seen you yet?”

“No, he hasn’t arrived.”

“Good. I want to see his face when he first sees you.” Sansa reached for her goblet and a servant promptly filled it with wine.

“You seem to be in good spirits, Lady Sansa. I like it,” said Daenerys, turning to face her.

Sansa looked as if she were about to reply but out of the corner of her eye Daenerys saw Jon enter the Great Hall and quickly turned to look at his expression. It was a mixture of shock, brooding, and attraction, as only Jon Snow could do. Directing a glance at Sansa, she saw that Sansa was having a hard time suppressing the smirk on her face. Daenerys had better control and coolly watched him approach the high table and take his seat to her right. He wanted her and this time Daenerys found it incredibly satisfying that he couldn’t hide it. She leaned over and whispered in Sansa’s ear.

“You were right.”

Sansa smiled and they both looked at the rest of the hall, enjoying how they all stared and whispered amongst themselves. Even Tyrion looked speechless.

“Your Grace, you look very nice,” said Jon, trying to start a conversation. Ordinarily she would’ve jumped at the chance but she was distracted by the presence of a lord who was approaching the high table. He nodded to Jon and then to her but his focus was on Sansa. Daenerys recognized the sigil on the two men behind him as belonging to House Glover. She hadn’t realized Glover was visiting Winterfell and made a mental note to chastise Tyrion for not informing her. She kept her attention forward but could overhear his words to Sansa.

“Lady Stark, if I might have a word with you?” he whispered.

“Good evening, Lord Glover, I trust your trip from Deepwood Motte was uneventful and that your men arrived safely. As you can see, not all of our men are here to welcome you as many died in the Battle of Winterfell.”

During Sansa’s response Daenerys glanced at her and saw the withering glare she gave Glover. She turned away and took a slow sip of wine, relishing how coldly Sansa was speaking with him. Jon looked like he might stand up to direct Glover away from Sansa but Daenerys placed a hand on his arm, warning him to stay seated. She knew Sansa could handle this and she wanted to hear what she had to say.

“Yes,” stammered Glover, “My deepest condolences, my lady…”

“Your condolences have been received but they are little comfort considering your failure to stand with House Stark. The North will remember, Lord Glover.” Sansa’s voice had gotten slightly louder. The hall had quieted a bit and Glover looked around nervously, unsure how to respond.

Sansa continued, “By the way, the queen has promised to send food to resupply our stores, which will be used to resupply those loyal houses who supplied us with grain and men. I suggest you rethink your position on helping the queen with her fight for the throne. The northern army is committed to marching south. You would do well to join us.”

It was a dressing down as only Sansa Stark could give and Daenerys enjoyed every word, every breath. The Lady of Winterfell exuding power and strength, criticizing a wayward bannerman, and threatening him into supporting her war against Cersei in front of everyone in the Great Hall. She never wanted to kiss Sansa more than at this moment.

Glover looked nervously at Sansa, Daenerys, and Jon, the three of them staring at him in return.

“Yes, of course, my lady,” he replied. Looking to Daenerys he said, “Your Grace, I will speak with you and Lord Snow on the morrow?” Daenerys nodded without a word.

“Thank you, Lord Glover,” answered Sansa, and she turned away from him to look at Daenerys.

Daenerys wanted to smile but Glover was still standing and staring at them, dumbfounded. She looked up at him in her harshest glare and he finally understood and walked away.

“You were brilliant, Lady Sansa,” whispered Daenerys. She looked out towards Tyrion and raised an eyebrow as if to show off her progress with Lady Stark. He bowed his head slightly in reply and turned back to his brother. Missandei, too, smiled discreetly in acknowledgment of her triumph and went back to talking with Davos.

The rest of the meal went smoothly, the two of them chatting amiably, but not in as familiar a manner as they would have done in private. The sharp contrast made Daenerys keenly aware that even the interactions where they’d kept their hands off each other had been more brazen than she’d previously thought. And it felt strange for Daenerys to sit between Jon and Sansa, knowing both reluctantly wanted her, knowing she wanted them, Jon a deep abiding flame and Sansa unpredictable like wildfire. She had gotten used to keeping her emotions in check around Jon in public but it was different with Sansa. It had been absolutely excruciating for Daenerys to keep up the indifferent friendliness after the encounter with Lord Glover. Sansa had publicly demonstrated her support and while it wasn’t exactly a pledge of fealty, Daenerys still felt like she could fly.

*::::*

When it was time to retire, Daenerys offered to walk Sansa back to her rooms and instead of declining, Sansa welcomed the opportunity to be with Daenerys away from prying eyes. Sansa thought again of Glover and how she had spoken to him. Surprisingly, she didn’t regret it at all, even knowing she was supposed to be reaching out to him to shore up a private alliance against the Dragon Queen. His presence bothered her and her thoughts went to Theon and the others who had lost their lives. At least Daenerys fought with them, she had even lost one of her closest friends and had to fight against one of her own dragons, whom she considered a son. Glover didn’t deserve any kindness.

The walk to Sansa’s rooms was mostly silent, with several shy smiles directed at each other. Daenerys had asked Grey Worm to stay far behind and Sansa was glad that it was essentially just the two of them. Away from everyone, Sansa couldn’t help but admire how Daenerys looked. Everything about her was so enticing, the loose waves of her hair, the grey color of her dress against her pale skin. _This is crazy, Sansa, stop it._

Once at Sansa’s bedchamber door, they stood awkwardly, not sure how to say goodnight.

“Thank you for what you said to Lord Glover. I will be sure to pass on your threat to Tyrion. No food will be given to House Glover or any northern house that did not fight with us here unless they contribute in some way to the march south.”

“Perhaps it should be less threat and more like incentive? I’d gotten angry at him and spoke harshly.”

“Of course, Lady Sansa,” smiled Daenerys. “Incentivizing preferred behavior is a better way of putting it. But to be a queen means to occasionally make threats. You and I both know it isn’t always loyalty that motivates men. To be queen is to be tested constantly by those wondering where you would draw the line, how far would you go to protect what was yours. And once you draw that line, Lady Sansa, you need to defend it.”

Sansa could see there was humor mixed in with the seriousness on Daenerys’s face.

“Are you giving me lessons on how to be a queen? Do you think I would be a good one?” Sansa said with a small smile. She’d meant it as lighthearted humor but Daenerys’s eyes darkened in that way they did during their encounter in the snow and her heart stopped.

“I think you would be a formidable queen, Sansa. Smart, intimidating, beautiful…” Daenerys replied thoughtfully, one hand reaching for a loose strand of Sansa’s hair, but then she caught herself and brought her hand down before touching her.

Sansa felt an odd disappointment that Daenerys had held back her hand but also a thrill at Daenerys’s informal use of her name and being called beautiful. The awkward silence returned.

“Why do you think Lord Glover wanted to speak privately with you?” Daenerys asked, breaking the silence. Sansa frowned.

“I suspect to speak more of his unhappiness about Jon bending the knee. But as far as I’m concerned he betrayed Jon by not staying here to fight with us,” huffed Sansa angrily. “Do you mind if we not talk about Lord Glover? The thought of him continues to irritate me.”

“Of course,” Daenerys nodded. Then she smiled playfully, took a few steps back and twirled. It was girlish and innocent and Sansa couldn’t help the warmth that filled her. “So, I would say the dress left quite the impression, as you predicted.”

Sansa laughed. “Yes, although I should’ve thought about what it implied about your relationship with Jon. I’m sure more than one person understood it as a projection of an impending union between the two of you. I apologize if my suggestion made things more complicated for you.”

“I did think of that beforehand so there’s no need for apologies. The complication was well worth the looks on all their faces,” answered Daenerys with a grin. “Shall we to Winter town tomorrow?”

“Yes, that would be wonderful,” answered Sansa, looking again at Daenerys’s dress. If Daenerys remembered to give her the dress tomorrow would it still smell like her? The thought made her mouth open slightly with yearning.

“Goodnight then,” said Daenerys, one hand taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. Sansa’s heart began racing immediately. Everything about their encounters rushed back to her, the attraction, the something more that tugged at her heart. Sansa looked into Daenerys’s eyes and for the first time was absolutely certain Daenerys wasn’t deceiving her. _Right now, this moment, she’s resisting me. The whole day she has resisted and it reveals the truth. She really is attracted to me. Has my resistance revealed this truth to her as well? At least she is not pushing the way she did last night. She knows it’s not a good idea._

“Goodnight, your Grace,” she said, pulling her hand away and opening her door, glancing once more into Daenerys’s eyes before walking into her room. She turned around to say something but Daenerys had already begun walking away and Sansa closed her door, more confused than ever.

*::::*

Someone gasped. Sansa’s hands searched and felt soft skin and a silky wetness pressed against her thigh. She couldn’t see a face but she knew it was a woman. A wave of pleasure washed over her and Sansa sat up but couldn’t move because of the person on top of her. Sansa blinked a few times and then she saw that it was Daenerys, who smiled at her, pressed one finger against her lips, and pushed her back down on her bed. She felt hands rub her body, beginning with her neck, down over her breasts, and back up again.

“Daenerys,” Sansa whispered, and then in a burst of power she flipped them over so that she now straddled the Dragon Queen. But then it wasn’t Daenerys anymore, it was Tyrion, and she felt his hardness between her legs. While surprised, this did not stop her from rubbing against him. His hands were at her breasts, pinching her nipples and she was suddenly close, his name on her lips. But when she leaned her head back, Sansa was laying with her back on the bed again, someone’s hands spreading her legs open, a hot tongue pleasuring her. Sansa looked down and saw long silvery white hair spread across her belly. It felt amazing and she turned her head to the side only to see Tyrion lying beside her. He kissed her until she was gasping for air but then Daenerys grabbed her hand and he disappeared, Daenerys’s mouth not stopping its assault between her legs. It was just the two of them and Sansa was almost there… almost…

Then Sansa sat up, awake. She glanced around her bed and realized it had been a dream. _Of course it was a dream, you idiot… both of them at the same time?_

Her pulse was still racing and she was breathing hard. Sansa had had dreams about Tyrion but this was the first one with his queen. Her desire for Daenerys was difficult enough to control during the day but now it was expressing itself in her dreams. This was getting out of hand.

*::::*

The next morning, Daenerys walked out to the courtyard to meet a waiting Sansa and two guards. Sansa appeared a bit tired but still happy to see her. Like the previous walk to Winter town, Daenerys only had Grey Worm and another soldier accompany her.

“Good morning, your Grace. And how was Lord Glover’s groveling this morning?” asked Sansa with a wicked smirk.

“Sufficiently satisfying, Lady Sansa,” smiled Daenerys. “I left Jon to finish up the details. They should be done by now, I think. Shall we be off?”

They turned to walk towards the main gate but before they could walk out, Samwell Tarly appeared and approached them.

“Your Grace, I was wondering if I could have a word?” Sam asked, looking at Daenerys and Sansa, then Brienne and Grey Worm. He seemed nervous. She gave Sansa a look, who walked a few steps away to give them some space. Daenerys knew Sansa could still hear but she didn’t mind. She and Sam hadn’t really spoken since the night she told him what she did to his father and brother. He’d been devastated and she knew that would be replaced by anger towards her. There was nothing she could say that would make it better, though she knew both Jorah and Jon had tried. Daenerys hadn’t asked either of them to do so but Jorah had come to her and told her that, although Sam would need more time, he thought he’d been able to get through to him. Now she would see if that had been true.

“Lord Tyrion approached me and said… well he said that your Grace wanted me to be your Grand Maester…” Samwell nervously babbled and Daenerys gave a small patient smile. “I’m of course flattered, your Grace, but… what I mean to say is… why? Why me?”

“You are an intelligent man, Samwell. And brave. Brave enough to challenge norms by making the attempt to cure Jorah’s greyscale and achieving success. It doesn’t matter to me that you have a family and I will challenge anyone at the Citadel who takes issue with my appointment. But also…” Daenerys trailed off and sighed. Thoughts of Jorah softened her towards Sam. She wanted to make amends and not just with a lofty position in her council.

“I know what I’ve done to you,” whispered Daenerys, and then in a stronger voice, “My offer to your father was more than generous considering he betrayed his liege, my ally Lady Tyrell, a betrayal that by all rights is punishable by death. I have no regrets there. But your brother… I gave him a choice and he made it. I thought I’d been fair but…”

Samwell’s eyes began filling with tears and Daenerys straightened, trying to not let her own tears come to her eyes, but also recognizing that she couldn’t be the unfeeling queen right now. The war would eventually end and she needed to be able to show kindness, too. She put her hand on Sam’s shoulder.

“You are a good man. I need someone on my small council who can show me that strength doesn’t always have to be imposed upon others, that true strength requires a willingness to bend, to look at a thing with different eyes and be open to an alternative solution. I see that now and I wish I had seen it then. I truly do wish it, Sam.”

He couldn’t respond right away because the tears fell freely and he was trying to control his sobs but Daenerys could tell that he wasn’t angry with her. It was as close to an apology as a queen could give her subject and he seemed to recognize that. She looked back at Sansa whose eyes also appeared to be wet and when she looked back at Sam, she saw his eyes flicker to the side and when she turned, she saw Jon watching them. _When did he get there?_

“Th-th-thank you, your G-grace,” Sam said between gasps for breath. Daenerys gave a squeeze to his shoulder and released him.

“So will you serve me, Sam? Will you serve and help me to better serve our people?”

Daenerys saw him give a small nod and then a larger one and then was surprised when he grabbed her hand.

“I will. I will, my Queen,” answered Sam. She gripped his hand hard and then pulled away.

“Gilly, little Sam, and I are leaving Winterfell today, to spend time with my mother and sister. I’ll tell Lord Tyrion to send word when you require me at King’s Landing.”

“Good, I hope your travels are safe. Do not feel the need to misrepresent my actions to your family. Be truthful. If they’re anything like you, I know they will be fair. And have a proper wedding with Gilly. I don’t want anyone challenging your children’s names.”

“Yes, your Grace. And thank you again,” he said, this time with a smile.

Daenerys returned his smile and he walked away, Jon directing one more look at her before rushing to join his friend. She watched them and felt Sansa approach to stand beside her. Sansa didn’t say a word but she did take one of her hands and gave it a reassuring squeeze before letting it go. Turning to look at Sansa, she saw that whatever tears had fallen had been wiped away. She smiled at her friend and it felt good to think of Sansa as her friend.

“I take it from your response that you approve of how I handled that?” Daenerys whispered.

“Yes. He will serve you well,” whispered Sansa in reply.

Sansa didn’t look at her and for a moment looked troubled but then she smiled brightly and said, “So, Winter town, your Grace?”

“Yes, Lady Sansa. I promised Falon this little figurine of a dragon and can’t wait to give it to him,” Daenerys replied, feeling within her coat the dragon she had tucked away.

*::::*

After they returned from Winter town, Sansa headed back to her rooms. With every step, a great heaviness weighed on her. The trip had been cheerful and fun; Falon was delighted with his dragon figurine and Daenerys had even engaged in some light banter with a group of men who had boldly invited her into the tavern with them. The men laughed but maintained a respectful attitude and they entered the tavern alone but with a story to tell about a queen who wasn’t afraid to enjoy a bit of humor. The memory of it made Sansa smile but the heaviness reminded her that Arya was waiting for her in her bedchamber.

Sansa quietly entered her room and saw Arya leaning against her bed.

“Ready?”

She nodded in reply and went to sit down at the chair next to her small table. Sansa only vaguely listened as Arya described the plan. It was to happen at the next trip to Winter town. Now that Daenerys only took two guards with her, and those guards along with Sansa’s guards brought up the rear, Arya would wear a face and approach from the front. Sansa would be able to tell because she would wear a hooded cloak with a bit of red flashing from underneath. Using a rough but clean dagger, she would quickly stab Daenerys in the heart and then stab Sansa in the shoulder, leaving the knife behind.

“It’ll hurt, Sansa, but I promise it will heal without any permanent damage. Just remember to struggle and scream to help keep the guards’ focus on you.”

Sansa nodded wordlessly. After stabbing them Arya would quickly turn around and rush through the side streets, shedding the face and cloak in predetermined locations, and putting on a different face, never stopping until she was deeply hidden in the town. In the chaos, she would eventually make her way back to Winterfell through the Hunter’s Gate, having exited through the gate earlier that morning stating her intentions for a hunt. She’d been going hunting nearly every day, sometimes coming back with game, sometimes not, but it was a known routine and her alibi would be believed.

Arya finished talking and waited for Sansa to respond but Sansa didn’t know what to say. The pit in her stomach felt like an abyss and the guilt blanketed her. Tyrion had been right. Sansa was acting like Littlefinger, shaping the kingdom to her own liking and murdering anyone who got in the way. Because that’s what this was. Not justice for their family. Murder.

“Do you feel guilty at all?” asked Sansa, her voice hollow.

“No. I mean, I’ve not been spending time with her. You have. You know her. If you still think this is our best course of action to keep our family and the North safe then I trust you and will gladly do it for us, for the pack.”

Sansa stared at her but eventually nodded.

“Are you certain, Sansa?”

She nodded again, letting her fear and the momentum of previous plotting and planning carry her forward rather than a true belief in the righteousness of their actions. Arya stared at her but then nodded herself and left the room, leaving Sansa alone with her guilt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My current outline has this fic ending at 20 chapters or so, give or take (subject to change).


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning about a slightly non-consensual touching scene. It is brief and without intent to harm but I wanted to be safe and give a warning to those who find such things uncomfortable.

Chapter 11

Sansa didn’t really get a chance to talk with Daenerys again the rest of the day. In the Great Hall, Sansa went back to her regular seat and avoided socializing. She felt confused by the dream and confused by the good she knew existed in Daenerys. Fear of a kneeling North still gripped her but so did doubt. That exchange earlier with Samwell had been sincere and heartfelt. And Daenerys had shown true care for the people in Winter town, little Falon, and all she met in the castle. The guilt had become so overwhelming Sansa stayed in her rooms the following day, skipping all meals in the Great Hall, including dinner. After she retired to bed, she couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning for over an hour, until she gave up, put on her robe, and sat in front of the fireplace.

Then she heard a light knock on her door. Sansa wondered who it could be at this late hour and for a moment she thought it might be Tyrion. Opening the door, she was surprised to see Daenerys, wearing a robe over her nightgown and holding a folded up dress. Grey Worm was with her as always but he stayed further back in the corridor.

“I didn’t get a chance to see you today and I wanted to bring you the dress personally.”

“Of course, come in,” said Sansa without thinking. After Daenerys entered the room, Sansa wondered if she should’ve just taken the dress and said goodnight. Daenerys had not been in her bedchamber before and she watched her as she looked around and placed the dress on the seat of the chair by the window.

“Would you like some wine or I can have a servant bring us some tea?”

“No, thank you, Lady Sansa,” said Daenerys with a nervous energy, holding her hands together. “You weren’t at dinner tonight.”

“I wasn’t feeling well, your Grace,” said Sansa, looking down. She could barely stomach the lies now but at least that one was partly true.

“Are you well now? Is there anything I can do?”

“I’m fine. But I’m having trouble sleeping.”

“Then I recommend you have some wine.” Daenerys walked over to the table where a flagon of wine had been set with one goblet. She poured but not too much and handed it to Sansa.

“Drink it all, so the effects act quickly.”

“Why would I want that?” asked Sansa, feeling suspicious of Daenerys’s intentions.

“So you would feel tired, of course,” grinned Daenerys.

Sansa smiled, suddenly glad to have the company. In a strange way, having Daenerys near her made her forget her guilt. It was only when she was alone that it invaded her being, reminding her of the kind of person she had become.

An hour later the two of them were laughing on her bed at the story Daenerys just shared about what happened earlier at dinner. It seemed that Tormund was feeling brave and again tried to win Brienne for himself. Words were exchanged and Jaime gracefully handled the situation by punching Tormund hard in the nose. Instead of being angry, Tormund embraced Jaime like a brother and they proceeded to get roaring drunk.

“I don’t understand why Tormund insists on pestering Brienne. He knows she’s not interested,” said Sansa.

“We want who we want,” said Daenerys, looking at Sansa with a suddenly sober expression. Sansa smiled and covered her embarrassment with more laughter. She handed over the goblet which they had been sharing. Daenerys took a sip. Sansa knew Daenerys wasn’t drinking all that much and she should’ve controlled her own consumption but she was having too much fun and it helped her forget her dark thoughts.

They talked into the night.

“What’s your favorite dessert?” asked Daenerys.

“Lemon cakes,” replied Sansa without hesitation. “Lemons don’t grow here and it’s a rare treat.”

Daenerys got a wistful look. “Lemons always remind me of one of my most cherished childhood memories. For a time, I lived in a house with a red door and there was a lemon tree. I never felt happier or safer than during that time.”

In her best imitation of a knight’s command, Sansa said, “In honor of our shared lemon connection, I shall have the kitchens scour the pantries for lemons and if we have them, order the cooks to prepare some lemon cakes.”

Sansa finished off the wine, placed the goblet on her nightstand, and tried to hold her serious expression but she wobbled slightly and Daenerys burst into laughter. Sansa soon joined in. The two of them fell onto the bed and laughed until they couldn’t breathe. Then they lay catching their breaths, facing each other, Sansa on the right side of the bed, Daenerys on the left.

The wine had made Sansa more inebriated than usual and she realized it was because she’d skipped the day’s meals. She felt bold enough to ask a few questions and was ready to blame the wine if Daenerys took offense.

“How many lovers have you had?” asked Sansa.

“I’m not sure I want to answer that, Lady Sansa. Your northern sensibilities might turn against me,” teased Daenerys.

“Many?” Sansa persisted.

“More than two.”

“Women?”

Daenerys gave a shy smirk and nodded.

“Your handmaiden, Doreah?” Sansa asked, heart beating faster.

Laughing, Daenerys lightly scolded, “Sansa, the wine has made you very inquisitive!”

“What happened to her?” she asked, undeterred.

Daenerys was silent for a while, seemingly unsure how to answer. Then she looked into Sansa’s eyes and said, “I know I implied otherwise the other night, there were _lessons_ as I said, but the truth is she and I didn’t actually sleep together until after Drogo died. It wasn’t love but I trusted her. I needed comfort and she was there for me. Then she betrayed me.”

“Oh,” replied Sansa, understanding everything that went with those last words. She didn’t want to delve further into what happens to those who betray Daenerys Targaryen; what _deserved_ to happen to betrayers and murderers.

After a long pause, Sansa whispered, “Is it very much different… being with a woman? I mean, aside from the obvious difference.”

She was grateful her thoughts didn’t immediately go to Ramsay. Instead Sansa thought of the gentleness of Tyrion that she’d needed. And then the not-so-gentle Tyrion that she’d begged for. Those thoughts made her cheeks burn and in the candlelight, Sansa could see Daenerys’s cheeks had also reddened. She knew this wasn’t teasing anymore and that she had led them to a topic that treaded too close to the line she couldn’t cross.

“It’s as different as you want it to be. It just depends on what you like… and what she likes,” replied Daenerys softly, keeping her eyes focused on Sansa’s eyes, almost as if she were trying not to look lower.

It was only two short sentences but by the end, Daenerys seemed properly breathless and Sansa’s heart was pounding so loudly she was sure it was echoing around the room, her blush definitely revealing how affected she was by this conversation.

“Have you ever kissed a woman, Lady Sansa?” whispered Daenerys. Sansa shook her head.

“I’ve never even thought about being with a woman before until…” Sansa trailed off, immediately regretting her honesty because it revealed too much about what she felt for Daenerys. To Daenerys’s credit, she didn’t push for an ending to that sentence. Sansa closed her eyes. This shouldn’t be happening. She just couldn’t help it. It was wrong, she knew she shouldn’t, but she liked being friends with her. She hadn’t realized how much she missed this type of companionship. _But the plan, Sansa…_

“I envy you,” confessed Sansa suddenly, opening her eyes. Daenerys quirked an eyebrow and Sansa’s blush deepened. “What I mean is, you’re a queen. Even if I were somehow comfortable enough to take lovers, there would be much shame and consternation directed at me. I have to hold myself to a standard that doesn’t seem to apply to you. Or you don’t care. Or… you know what it is I’m trying to say…”

“You’re referring to the freedom I enjoy to make my choices without regard to others’ expectations. But I’m not to be envied,” Daenerys said, raising herself up onto her left elbow, and sighed deeply. “I am still unlucky in love. When my first husband died, I didn’t want to go on. And when I did I didn’t think I would ever love again. I didn’t want to. I didn’t ever want to feel that dependency on another person again. The lovers I took were for pleasure only. But then I met Jon and I felt like I could share who I really was with him. For so long I’ve had to display more coldness and strength than any man would be expected to have. I think you know a little of that. With Jon, I could be myself… but then we found out the truth about him. And I’ve lost him.”

Sansa was moved by her words. She knew what it was like to have to stay within oneself, not knowing who to trust, not willing to risk that loss of control. In a way, Daenerys was also telling her that she felt comfortable enough with Sansa to say these things to her, to be that vulnerable. Sansa reached out her right hand to Daenerys’s cheek and then quickly withdrew but before she could pull it back completely, Daenerys grabbed it with her own right hand.

“And now I don’t know what I’m doing with you, Lady Sansa,” Daenerys stated simply, lying back down, her head on the pillow, still holding Sansa’s hand.

“We’re two friends spending time together,” Sansa answered after a short pause.

“Are we?” They laughed, eyes fixed on their linked fingers. Daenerys continued, “You know what I mean.”

The air again felt stifling with the atmosphere of unspoken feelings. Sansa knew Daenerys wanted clarity; she wanted to understand what this was. Two people who were attracted to each other but could not be together should not be sharing a bed and speaking so intimately, and yet here they were, tempting themselves, refusing to end what should be ended.

“I know. But let’s not talk about it. Let’s just sleep and not think about expectations and complications. Get under the covers, your Grace.” Sansa pulled her hand away and began undoing the knot on her robe, removing it.

“Yes, my lady,” whispered Daenerys, sitting up to remove her own robe.

Daenerys’s nightgown was ivory in color, had long sleeves, a ribbon that laced up an opening in the front, and was very similar to her own. Sansa got the feeling that it wasn’t her usual night wear but of course winter in the North required more coverage. With Daenerys’s back towards her, Sansa let her eyes linger on her hair, the shape of her that she could see through the nightgown. _What am I doing? This is insane._

Daenerys turned back and lifted the covers and got in. Sansa did the same. They both giggled softly but then Sansa furrowed her brow.

“What is it?” asked Daenerys, concerned.

“I should tell you, I get nightmares. They’re not as frequent as they were right after I escaped him… but how I am when I wake from them may be upsetting to you.” Sansa did not want to describe the shaking, the mournful cries, and the sweat-soaked nightgowns. She watched Daenerys’s eyes well with tears and knew that she understood.

Daenerys reached for her hand and brought it up to her lips, kissed it, and then said, “If that happens then I will hold and comfort you until you go back to sleep. You do not need to be afraid while I’m here.”

“Thank you,” whispered Sansa, letting Daenerys continue to hold her hand. Sansa quickly settled and closed her eyes, feeling Daenerys’s eyes on her but too scared to look back. She soon fell asleep.

Just before dawn, when consciousness came to Sansa, she was vaguely aware that she’d had a restless night. She didn’t need to open her eyes to know that she was tangled up in sheets, left leg thrown up over a twisted portion, her left arm thrown over a pillow that ended with something smooth and silky. _That’s your shoulder, silly_, her mind scolded her. But then why didn’t she feel the pressure of her hand on her shoulder? She gently squeezed and then all thought moved to her hand. Her eyes flew open and she saw that it wasn’t sheets that she was tangled up in but Daenerys, her head next to hers on the same pillow, her leg thrown over Daenerys’s hip, her arm across her chest and gripping Daenerys’s shoulder. Daenerys was on her back but her face was turned towards her. If she leaned forward slightly, their noses would be touching. Instead of pulling away, Sansa froze. How was she going to explain this? Daenerys’s eyes were still closed but was she asleep? Did she know? Did something happen? No, she’d had a lot of wine but not that much. _What do you mean not that much, Sansa? It was still enough for you to embrace Daenerys in your sleep! _Sansa was afraid to move, afraid to wake Daenerys, afraid to have to explain…

“As much as I’m enjoying your silent panic, Lady Sansa, I do believe you have two choices,” whispered Daenerys. Her eyes were still closed but there was a hint of a smile on her lips.

Sansa rolled away from Daenerys and sat up, shame and embarrassment flooding her.

Daenerys sighed. Sansa briefly wondered if it was relief or disappointment behind her sigh. But she was too mortified to dwell on it.

“I deeply apologize, your Grace. To touch you so intimately and without your permission… I don’t know what came over me…” rambled Sansa.

“It’s fine, Lady Sansa…”

Sansa quickly grabbed Daenerys’s forearm that was nearest her and looked at her fiercely. “No it isn’t. You shared a bed with me but you did not give me leave to put my hands on you.”

“Sansa…” breathed Daenerys, her expression full of understanding at Sansa’s distress. “I am touched by your concern and I am grateful that you do not dismiss such a thing so easily. Please believe me when I say that I am fine. I don’t feel anything but safe with you. Truly.”

Her eyes looked as if she wanted to say more and Sansa felt the heat of that gaze. But then Daenerys sat up and threw her legs over the side of the bed so that her back was to Sansa.

Sansa was relieved that Daenerys was willing to let it go without offense and without teasing. She tried not to think about how it felt, touching Daenerys, but she couldn’t suppress the desire it inspired in her.

“I had fun last night. It’s been many years since I stayed up talking with a friend,” offered Sansa as a way to move past the awkwardness.

Daenerys turned around to look at Sansa.

“I had fun, too. It made me think of what my life might’ve been like growing up in the Red Keep, ladies in waiting, close friends staying up all night in our bedchambers…” Daenerys paused, her face becoming unreadable. “The truth is you’ve done so much more than that for me. I was beginning to despair at ever truly winning over the people of Westeros, of ever really belonging to the land of my birth. But with your help, the people here no longer look at me in fear. My soldiers have begun to be looked at by the northmen as true comrades in arms. If a people as wary of strangers as yours are can have their minds changed, then I am optimistic that the same can happen elsewhere. Jon was right about them needing time but they also needed someone like you to show the way. Thank you, Lady Sansa.”

Sansa smiled and nodded, looking down and trying to hide how low she felt. _She trusts me. She feels safe with me._

Daenerys reached for her robe and stood up, putting it on.

“You do not have to leave, your Grace. I can have food brought here for us…”

“No, I do not think that would be wise. I don’t want to add to the whispers by having servants see me in your bedchamber like this.”

After tying the rope of her robe, Daenerys looked towards Sansa again but then quickly looked away. Sansa realized that the ribbons lacing up her own sleep dress had come undone and the opening revealed one of her breasts. Clutching it closed, Sansa’s impulse was to look away in embarrassment but this time she kept her gaze fixed on Daenerys, watching her try to calm her breathing, noticing how she gripped the side of her robe tightly with her right hand. These reactions made Daenerys very appealing to Sansa. She enjoyed seeing her struggle as much as Sansa always seemed to when confronted by their attraction.

“The next time you decide to come late to my rooms, perhaps bring along the nightgown and you can change here. It would head off any talk and then you can change back into your clothes in the morning and exit through my solar.” _Next time?!_ her mind panicked but her body purred, _Yes, next time._

Daenerys looked at her and smiled.

_Gods, she’s beautiful_, Sansa thought. _Why do I torture myself by making future plans with her? Embroidering that dress, more nights in my bed. They aren’t going to happen._

“Good idea,” Daenerys replied slowly. There was the slightest turn of her body which made Sansa think she was going to rejoin her on the bed and Sansa held her breath.

Instead Daenerys followed with, “Enjoy your morning, Lady Sansa,” slid her slippers on, and then walked out.

Sansa caught a glimpse of Grey Worm who had apparently waited there the whole night. That would definitely have been seen by a servant or two. Sansa frowned and lay back in her bed, thinking again of how she embraced Daenerys in her sleep. _This attraction is escalating and I’m not helping. _But did it matter? Arya would be taking care of all of it soon. Instead of feeling relief, the sadness and guilt returned.

*::::*

Daenerys walked into her bedchamber and saw Missandei waiting for her. They looked at each other in silence, understanding passing between them. Daenerys sighed and walked to her bed, removing her robe and then her nightgown. Missandei wordlessly approached her and proceeded to help wash her, dress her, and redo the braids in her hair. Finally, while working on the braids, Missandei spoke.

“You need to be careful, your Grace.”

“I know,” answered Daenerys dismissively, not wanting to hear her friend’s disapproval.

“It’s not just your reputation that you need to worry about. It’s hers, too. The northern lords already take umbrage with how Jon knelt and gave up the North to you. They blame you, callously saying you spread your legs and down he went.”

“Missandei!” warned Daenerys, turning to look at her. She was shocked at her phrasing.

“Jon’s standing with them hasn’t recovered,” continued Missandei, ignoring the warning. “Do you wish the same to happen to her? A friendly Lady Stark is a good thing but talk of Queen Daenerys having seduced the Lady of Winterfell in order to win her friendship will only have the lords accuse you of corrupting their leaders.”

Daenerys thought on her words. She knew Missandei was making valid points, however much she hated it.

“Nothing happened between us. We just talked.”

“But something would’ve happened if she had wanted it,” stated Missandei matter-of-factly.

She didn’t answer and let Missandei finish her braids. When she finished, Daenerys stood up from her chair and turned to her friend.

“I will increase my efforts not to malign Lady Sansa’s good name. Are you satisfied?”

Missandei gave a sympathetic smile and nodded.

“You like her, don’t you? What of Jon?”

“I don’t really wish to talk about this,” replied Daenerys harshly. But then her shoulders sagged. “It’s just too complicated, Missandei. I love him and he’s had second thoughts; I like her but she seems confused about what she wants. I should just be done with the both of them.”

“But you don’t want to do that.”

“No, I don’t,” whispered Daenerys after a pause.

She thought of this morning, waking up and feeling Sansa holding her. Her heart raced, hoping Sansa had started something but then she realized Sansa was still sleeping. Somehow she had known that Sansa was about to wake and she closed her eyes, turned her face to Sansa’s and waited for Sansa to speak. Daenerys liked the smell of Sansa’s hair and she had inhaled deeply, allowing herself to pretend that this was their room, their bed, and that she was in the arms of her lover. She had wondered if she’d been mistaken about Sansa being close to waking but then she felt Sansa’s hand lightly squeeze her shoulder. It took all of her control not to turn into Sansa’s embrace and kiss her but Sansa didn’t say a word so Daenerys had spoken first. For one gloriously, hopeful moment she thought Sansa might choose to take it further but she had pulled away instead. It had been incredibly frustrating and Daenerys was tempted to throw herself at Sansa, to force her to face her desire, but instead she held back. The truth was she was as confused about this as Sansa was.

Without wanting to, her mind saw the image of Sansa in her bed, nightgown opened to reveal her breast. Nudity was not something that ordinarily flustered her but the sight of Sansa like that had affected her deeply. Instead of shying away, Sansa held herself steady and spoke of future nights in her room. _If we’re supposed to be denying this attraction, why would she plan for more nights together?_

“Missandei… would it really be terrible if… if Sansa and I were to give in to these feelings?” Daenerys’s heart pounded. She needed to talk to someone. Missandei would understand.

Her friend sat down in the chair facing her and looked at her queen with kindness. It relaxed Daenerys and she knew she could speak freely. She would share everything.

“Tell me what’s happened.”

Daenerys laughed lightly and felt shy all of a sudden. “A great many things, Missandei.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos and comments, etc. :)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the lovely comments btw. I’m glad the tension comes through. I’ve worked hard at making it feel real.

Chapter 12

After Daenerys left the room, Sansa got ready for the day. She wanted time to be alone so she got dressed to go riding, sending a servant to Brienne to relay the message about her plans and to meet her at the stables. It would just be a ride around Winterfell’s perimeter, just to clear her head.

At the stables, she greeted Brienne but she was in no mood to talk. Brienne, as always, understood and together they rode out of the south gate and turned right.

Thoughts swirled in Sansa’s mind. If Arya knew about last night she’d be yelling at her right now. If Littlefinger were here he’d first admonish her for letting her emotions get the better of her and then he would congratulate her on a scheme well done, for figuring out how to deceive Daenerys into trusting her. Sansa angrily spurred her horse into a gallop and Brienne followed silently behind. They were soon past the Hunter’s Gate.

_It’s not my fault Daenerys is too trusting. She should’ve known better. She should’ve listened to her advisors. She knows who I am and what I wanted._

Sansa slowed her horse and had to bite her cheek to keep from screaming, feeling the metallic taste she’d become very much familiar with over the years. This morning, feeling Daenerys next to her, underneath her arm and leg… for a split second she had been tempted. Two choices: continue or pull away. Sansa had pulled away but Daenerys had wanted her to continue, her sigh indeed filled with disappointment. Daenerys was so soft and she smelled so good, if she had been bolder… if she had had less scruples. _Oh so you’ll kill her but you won’t fuck her_, Sansa imagined Cersei saying to her. _Tsk tsk, little dove, thinking she can play like the rest of us._

Shaking her head and halting her horse, Sansa growled out sharply, her horse whinnying unhappily. She was trying to suppress what she was feeling but she couldn’t. She turned her horse towards the Wolfswood, staring out towards where she had straddled Daenerys and saw desire in Daenerys’s eyes for the first time. Had Daenerys seen the same look in hers? Had it surprised her as much as it did Sansa? And then that dinner in her solar later that night… Sansa smiled at the memory. More could’ve happened then, too, if she’d let it, if she hadn’t been so afraid. But now it was too late.

“My lady, are you all right?” Brienne called out, her horse pulling up alongside.

“I’m fine,” Sansa answered. “I’m sorry, let’s go back. I’m too distracted for this ride.”

“Yes, my lady. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Sansa was tempted to tell her everything but she shook her head. No one could know. No one would ever know about her feelings for Daenerys Stormborn.

“No, thank you, Ser Brienne. No one can help me.”

And with that Sansa turned her horse to return through the Hunter’s Gate. She had skipped the morning meal but she would clean up and go to the midday one. Sansa didn’t want to avoid Daenerys again. She couldn’t be weak. Having passed the sentence, she would feel every part of this because it was her responsibility. She hoped when Arya stabbed her shoulder tomorrow that there _would_ be permanent damage. She deserved this suffering.

After she’d returned her horse to the stables, she parted from Brienne and made her way to her rooms. Dark thoughts distracted her and she didn’t notice Missandei waiting for her in her corridor until she spoke.

“Lady Stark, may I speak with you for a moment?”

“Of course, Lady Missandei. I’ve asked for servants to bring a bath so it will have to be short. Here, let’s use my solar.”

Once inside, she gestured towards chairs but Missandei shook her head.

“This won’t take long. I just… if you’ll forgive my boldness, her Grace has become quite taken with her friendship with you. And I wondered if you realized how that puts her in a precarious position with the other northern lords.”

“You are correct, that is very bold of you to say,” replied Sansa, her jaw clenched, eyes like steel. _Did Daenerys tell her? How much does she know?_

Sansa had expected Missandei to respond with defensiveness or even anger but she only smiled.

“I see why she likes you. You are both strong, intelligent women. And you both know how tarnished reputations can be difficult to overcome. But unlike you, she didn’t grow up with friends so her attachments to the ones she trusts are very strong. Our Queen feels loss a bit more acutely than most.”

“What is your point exactly?” Sansa asked.

“I think you know what I’m saying, Lady Stark. I only wish to protect her. And if you care for her at all, you will do the same.”

Missandei bowed her head and left the room. Sansa scowled in anger but then it quickly deflated. She knew Missandei was only looking out for her friend, as she should. The guilt returned and she walked into her bedchamber, waiting for the servants to bring the bath and trying to swallow back her nausea. _What is it going to feel like after tomorrow when she’s gone?_

*::::*

Daenerys sat at the high table wondering if Sansa would skip this meal, too. Missandei told her that Sansa had been out riding but that it had been of short duration.

_She’s disturbed by what happened. As much as I’d like to I can’t push her. I will have to alleviate her worry._

Sansa walked in and Daenerys felt a surge of warmth move through her. She had to look down to calm herself. Others would notice and she couldn’t let anyone see how she felt, how the Lady of Winterfell affected her.

“Good day, your Grace,” said Sansa cheerfully, sitting in Jon’s chair alongside Daenerys.

“Good day, Lady Sansa. How was your ride?”

“Bracing,” chuckled Sansa and then she gave a knowing look to Daenerys.

_Hmmm, _she thought._ At least she’s not going to pretend it didn’t happen._

“It really is all right, Lady Sansa. It was entirely innocent; restlessness, nothing more.”

“Not entirely,” Sansa answered after a pause, eyes hinting at deeper desires. She looked as if she wanted to say more but instead turned to the plate the servant had brought to her and began eating. Daenerys went back to eating as well, dying to know what Sansa had been about to say.

After they’d eaten, Sansa turned to her and discretely grabbed her hand under the table, giving it a squeeze before letting go.

“I have much to do today but I wanted to confirm tomorrow’s outing to Winter town.”

“Of course. But I’ll also see you tonight here at dinner?”

“Of course,” she replied. She had the look of a cornered animal needing to escape but then her expression quickly calmed.

“I will see you later then,” said Daenerys softly. Sansa only nodded and walked away.

_There’s something else going on. Something she’s hiding. _

Daenerys left the Great Hall and walked back to her rooms. She felt troubled by the encounter at the midday meal. Sansa had surreptitiously squeezed her hand, implying intimacy and friendship, but her eyes were cold, her entire countenance stiff and forced. She hadn’t been that way since before their race through the Wolfswood.

*::::*

Sansa did go to the Great Hall for the dinner meal but she was back to wearing her icy mask and only exchanged a few words with Daenerys. She couldn’t bring herself to do more and she was thankful when Daenerys rose, spoke to Missandei, and left early. Arya avoided looking at Sansa all evening but after Daenerys left, she gave her a nod and then left, too.

“You look positively miserable, Sansa,” Tyrion whispered beside her. “Can I do anything?”

“Lord Tyrion… I didn’t see your approach.”

“Which proves my point about your mood and I will ask again…”

“No,” Sansa interrupted, standing up. “Excuse me, I am tired.”

He bowed in response and she walked out of the hall. Sansa was going to retire to her rooms but decided she wanted to see the Godswood. It was a clear night, the stars shining brightly. It would be peaceful there and her heart and mind desperately needed peace tonight. She called to a servant and asked that he get her cloak and gloves.

Sansa was in the Godswood for at least an hour when she heard footsteps approaching. When she turned, she saw Daenerys and in spite of her inner turmoil, Sansa was pleased to see how this woman sought her out even when they’d made no plans. A smile broke out on Daenerys’s face in return and Sansa could see her shoulders relax. _She’d been nervous about approaching me_, Sansa thought.

“It is breathtaking here at night,” said Daenerys softly, looking around and up at the stars as she walked towards Sansa.

“Yes it is,” replied Sansa, her eyes remaining on Daenerys, this time not hiding her admiration. The color of her hair, how the fur of her white coat, the one she wore when she and Jon first rode into Winterfell, looked so soft against the snowy backdrop of the Godswood. But before Daenerys could see what she’d been thinking, she looked down.

“How did you know where I was?” asked Sansa.

“I asked Missandei to let me know where you were after you left the hall,” Daenerys answered. “I apologize for intruding, Lady Sansa. You just seemed out of sorts today and I wanted to make sure you were all right. If this morning made you uncomfortable…”

“Not at all, your Grace. I’m sorry for giving you that impression. Last night was fun and I hadn’t laughed so much in years. And this morning was as you said, restlessness. There is much on my mind, that is all.” The darkness fell across her again and she saw Daenerys’s brow furrow in concern.

“Such as?”

Sansa turned back to the weirwood tree and sighed. “The North,” she answered simply, a little coldness creeping into her voice.

“I see. Thinking of ways to wring independence from me?”

She knew it was meant as a joke but Sansa looked at her in shock and a bit of anger. “It isn’t something to laugh at. Our hearts bled to win Winterfell back, to win our independence. And we deserve it. When Jon came to you he gave us no indication of how negotiations with you were going. He made a unilateral decision without consulting me.”

“He was your king, Sansa,” said Daenerys.

“Maybe he shouldn’t have been,” answered Sansa bitterly. Exasperated, she turned back to the weirwood tree, expecting to be yelled at, expecting Daenerys to storm away. Instead Daenerys walked closer and took her hand in hers.

“Is this really what you’ve been thinking about?”

Sansa turned back to her, feeling the sudden closeness. Daenerys had removed her gloves but Sansa still wore hers. The parallel wasn’t lost on her… Daenerys open and trusting, Sansa closed off and wary. Would it be the worst thing in the world to let go? To let Daenerys rule over her?

“Play a game with me, your Grace. A thought exercise, if you will. Imagine that I refuse to yield; that while the northern army is helping you to dethrone Cersei, I stay here and rally the northern hold-outs to me.” Daenerys tried to pull her hand away but Sansa held tightly.

“I call on my Uncle Edmure, I appeal to the Vale. We gather our forces and I declare Jon Snow a traitor to the North, a bastard who gave away our kingdom and who should never have been our king. You do not want to reveal his parentage so neither of you dispute his bastardy. We ask you to recognize the North as an independent kingdom, for our service to the realm; for all that we’ve suffered. What would you do?” Sansa’s breath was ragged and her heart was racing. She had just revealed a set of choices that she had seriously considered before settling on the plot with Arya.

“Sansa, you should stop this…” Daenerys’s eyes were wide and Sansa saw fear and flashes of anger. She looked confused, not understanding why Sansa would say such things.

“No. Answer me. You wanted to know what I’ve been thinking. The twists and turns of the game, of course. Everyone is my friend. Everyone is my enemy. I anticipate good intentions as well as bad.” Sansa imagined that her eyes were looking wild and fearful but she couldn’t stop herself now. She needed to know; needed to see. “If I take this path, what happens? What happens, your Grace?”

Daenerys squeezed her hands tightly then took a deep breath and said, “You are leading a rebellion. And rebellions must be stamped out. War is declared.”

“You don’t want to use your dragons right away, you’ve just barely won the people and you don’t want to rule by fear. But you’ve already lost half your forces, and the Dothraki and Unsullied don’t have your diplomacy. Violence and power is what they understand.”

Daenerys slipped into the rhythm of the game and parried with, “Jon’s forces that are loyal to him fight you anyway. The Westerosi armies that have knelt to me, and my Dothraki and Unsullied, fight you. It is bloody, brother against brother, many die. But I don’t use my dragons.”

“A foolish decision. I’m not sure I believe this would be your true choice. It would save lives to crush us decisively. But let’s say you do hold them back. Many die. You win. Our forces are little after all. You reestablish control over the North. Then what?”

“Any lords still alive are permitted to return to their homes after they’ve bent the knee. Jon returns as Warden and Lord Paramount of the North to keep everyone in line.”

“Weakness, your Grace. Many have shown their fealty to be flexible and they cannot be trusted. Jon also doesn’t hold their respect. But your past actions with the Tarlys make you reluctant to be harsh so I’ll allow it. What do you do with me, a traitor?”

“My prisoner at the Red Keep.”

Sansa scoffed and pulled her hands away. “Another foolish decision. I would always be a figurehead, someone for the North to rally around.”

“Keeping you hostage could keep them in line, a threat to you being a threat to them,” Daenerys argued.

“True, but they would still come after you. Assassins and the like. You wouldn’t be safe. As you said, rebellions must be stamped out.”

“I’ve survived assassination attempts before. I am not afraid. You remain my prisoner.” Daenerys reached for her hands again but Sansa frowned down at them, confused.

“It doesn’t make sense, your Grace. I’m a traitor of the worst kind. I smiled, lied, worked myself into your favor, made you trust me, then when your back was turned I moved against you.”

“But I would understand your reasons. I know your fear. At King’s Landing, I would prove myself a good queen and I could change your mind, I could win you over eventually.” Sansa saw a hint of a smile on Daenerys’s lips but it dropped away at Sansa’s expression.

Sansa was breathing harder now, lost in the possibilities, imagined scenes of charred and mangled bodies spurring her on. “But I refuse. I’m a traitor. I went to war against you. You _must_ burn me. It’s the only way to end it. Your advisors do everything in their power to convince you.”

“Not Tyrion, not Jon,” countered Daenerys.

Sansa shook her head. “But even they recognize that as long as I’m alive, you wouldn’t be safe. Dorne and the Iron Islands see how lenient you were with the northern traitors and seize their chance. You are now fighting a war on multiple fronts. You have to use the dragons now. And executing me would give your enemies pause.”

“I can find another way,” Daenerys insisted.

“Rebel lords reorganize, gather new forces…” Sansa kept going, pointing out the flaws.

“No…” Daenerys shook her head, her body stiffening. Sansa saw the discomfort, the near desperation.

“They know they can’t win but like me they can’t find it within themselves to yield…”

“I could… no… never mind. I wouldn’t do that.” A look of shame came over Daenerys’s face.

“What?” asked Sansa harshly. “Marry me off to a loyal, simpering lord? Bind me forever to a man who will look down on me as a traitor? It is smart. I would be cowed. Remember, your Grace, I am a traitor and a traitor’s daughter.”

“No marriage. I would never do that. Not to you. We continue our talks. I can make you see who I am, Sansa.” Sansa could hear the pleading mixed with doubt.

Sansa closed her eyes and said, “It’s not enough. I am for a free North and can’t ever kneel to you.” The words were regretful, and she could barely get them out, but somehow she managed to sound resolute.

“Stop. Why are you so stubborn?” Sansa felt Daenerys’s hands placed on either side of her face. She could feel the trembling in Daenerys’s fingers.

“Attempts are made to rescue me…” said Sansa weakly, opening her eyes but turning slightly into Daenerys’s hands. _How can her hands be so soft?_

“And I would burn anyone that tried to take you from me!!” exclaimed Daenerys loudly, rage rising up at last, body pressing up against hers.

Daenerys eyed her lips and Sansa knew what she wanted, could see the possessiveness take hold. She knew that look well and it chilled her. But unlike those other times with men who thought to possess her, Sansa felt a tingle of want, too; an urge to surrender. Sansa quickly pushed it down and waited and watched as Daenerys closed her eyes, face contorting as she tried to breathe and control her emotions. It fascinated her to see Daenerys fight against her temper. _It wasn’t losing the North that did it; it was the thought of losing me._

Sansa slowly pressed her forehead against Daenerys’s while taking the slightest step back to place distance between their torsos. It had felt too good to feel Daenerys’s body against her. Daenerys’s hands dropped to hold her on her waist and Sansa brought her own hands to gently hold Daenerys’s upper arms. Sansa breathed softly against her, suddenly sorry for pushing so hard. But she wanted to see her anger again, she wanted to see Cersei. It was there, wasn’t it? She’d seen Cersei in her before, hadn’t she? Increasing the pressure of their touching foreheads, Sansa felt the cracks in her resolve deepen. Did she really want a quarrel on their last night together?

When Daenerys pulled her face back to look at her, Sansa offered a small smile. Their hands stayed where they were.

“It was just a game, wasn’t it, Lady Sansa?” Daenerys asked, searching Sansa’s face.

“Of course, your Grace,” answered Sansa, looking straight into her vulnerable eyes, forcing her features into kindness.

“Is that the path you’re going to choose?” Daenerys whispered.

“No.”

“But you do still want a free North.”

“I do,” sighed Sansa. Daenerys’s face became sad and she slowly stepped back and made as if to leave. But Sansa wasn’t ready for the night with her to end.

“Wait. Would you accompany me on my walk back to my rooms, your Grace?”

They walked silently out of the Godswood and to Sansa’s rooms. It was not uncomfortable exactly but they each seemed to prefer their own thoughts to frivolous conversation. The scenario that Sansa posited didn’t reveal much that she didn’t already know. Except for the end when Daenerys refused to admit that she would burn her as a traitor. Sansa could see that Daenerys’s instincts were to try to find a way out of it, at great cost to her security and the lives of others. Sansa didn’t know how to feel about that. Or she did but didn’t want to admit it. Instead she focused on how Daenerys chose not to yield her position in the face of the rebellion. At least there was that and she clung to it as if Daenerys’s refusal to bend was enough to justify her actions.

When they reached her rooms, they faced each other to say goodnight.

“Lady Sansa, I wonder if in your thought exercises, do you ever ponder the costs of your own stubbornness? If everyone is your friend _and_ your enemy, there’s no room to place your faith in anyone. Surely by now you have seen the kind of queen I will be. And I know you, too. I know giving up control to another is something that is extremely difficult for you. In these hypothetical thoughts, do you wonder that it is not consideration for the North and its people but your own pride and fear that hold you back from accepting me?”

Daenerys was being reasonable and forgiving. Sansa’s game earlier should’ve angered her but instead she was trying to appease her and while Sansa wasn’t exactly surprised, it was not what she wanted right now. She did not want Daenerys to be reasonable.

“Yes, I have. In recent days, I’ve thought on those things quite frequently,” answered Sansa truthfully. “But have you ever seriously considered my stance as well? If there was a compromise, would you consider it?”

“Could you? You seem quite fixated on independence. I admit that I have been moved by the North’s plight after everything I’ve seen here,” replied Daenerys softly. She reached a hand to Sansa’s cheek. “Don’t misunderstand me. I still want the seven kingdoms to remain together. But I can make it easier for you, Sansa.”

“Your Grace…” Her eyes darted to Daenerys’s lips and then back up to her eyes. That last sentence, said with such softness and promise. Sansa’s heart began to race.

“I won’t keep you from sleep any longer,” Daenerys suddenly said, and then she stepped closer to place a soft kiss on Sansa’s cheek, just beside where Daenerys’s thumb was, close to the corner of her mouth. Then she pulled back and for several moments they stared breathlessly into each other’s eyes, and Sansa wanted to invite her inside. Just one more night of conversation and closeness. One more night to keep the darkness away. And Daenerys looked willing; she would say yes if Sansa asked.

Before she could speak, Daenerys said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Lady Sansa. Goodnight.”

“Yes, tomorrow. Goodnight, your Grace.”

_Winter town. Arya will be there._ Sansa held back a sob as she watched Daenerys walk away down the corridor and then she entered her bedchamber. In a daze, she undressed and prepared herself for sleep. She was about to get into bed when she turned and walked to the chest which stored her many needlework projects. Opening it, she removed the grey dress that she had offered to embroider for Daenerys. The morning after Daenerys had brought it to her and spent the night, Sansa had quickly put it in the chest, not wanting to look at it. But now, she let her fingers graze over the soft-spun wool, remembering how Daenerys had looked in it during the needlepoint lesson and later that night in the Great Hall, how people had gawked and even lusted for her. Bringing a hand to the cheek where Daenerys kissed her, Sansa closed her eyes. Then she brought the dress up to her face to breathe it in. Another sob rose up in her throat but it was far away, somewhere it could barely touch her, as if her body recognized the impending breakdown and decided to numb itself on reflex. And as she carefully folded the dress, Sansa forced the detachment to spread. No feeling, no pain. She placed the dress back in her trunk and got into bed.

Once under the covers, Sansa lay on her back and resisted the urge to touch her cheek again. It didn’t matter and she couldn’t let it matter, repeating in her mind that it was for the North. She was doing it for the North. Sansa hoped for a dreamless sleep and ignored the tears streaming down the sides of her face.

*::::*

Daenerys entered her bedchamber and Missandei was waiting for her as she had instructed her to do earlier during the dinner meal.

“Missandei, go to Lord Varys and bring him to my solar. I know it’s late but I need him to tell me if Lady Sansa has gone to the rookery more often than usual in recent days. If she’s sent ravens to the other northern lords, I want to know which ones and the contents of those messages if possible.”

“What’s happened, your Grace?”

“I saw a side of Sansa Stark I haven’t seen before,” Daenerys muttered.

She stood there thinking, scowling. Did she really have reason to doubt Sansa? Being calculating and able to anticipate the moves of her enemies didn’t necessarily mean Sansa herself intended treachery against her. It was true they had grown close in such a short amount of time, perhaps too short. But after this morning in her bed, it would be only natural for Sansa to feel the need to reestablish the boundaries between them and their opposing ambition. And yet, that scenario was very detailed, as if it were something Sansa had seriously thought through.

“It is probably nothing, Missandei. I just want to know for sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much at stake, so much tension between our ladies. Next chapter is Winter town. Eek!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments on the previous chapter. I’m humbled by all the positive responses this story has received.

Chapter 13

Sansa and Daenerys strolled arm in arm through Winter town and Sansa was surprised the previous night’s conversation hadn’t dampened Daenerys’s humor or raised suspicion. She’d made an error by revealing her thoughts like that in her ‘game’. But she’d made many of those recently, the biggest being allowing herself to care for Daenerys Targaryen. She had half expected Daenerys to cancel, and a small part of her hoped that she would. But here they were and every step felt like heartbreak.

The people came out to greet Daenerys as they passed. Sansa no longer saw distrust directed at Daenerys or her soldiers, and the people had welcomed their help in rebuilding their structures and distributing food. Daenerys had been a quick study and she freely talked to the people, remembered their names and the names of their children, frequently inquiring after them and their health. With Sansa at her side, Daenerys seemed at ease amongst her northern people, and Sansa again silently cursed Daenerys’s advisors and Jon for not doing more to make their queen more approachable, less foreign. It hadn’t taken long at all and already Daenerys had won their respect and maybe even a true loyalty. If there had been more time, Sansa could have taken Daenerys to the other important houses of Westeros to gain their support. With her help, Daenerys would have had most of Westeros united against Cersei. Her head fell.

“What’s wrong, Lady Sansa? Are you ill?” Daenerys asked, holding Sansa’s hands. They had just finished talking with another family who had thanked Daenerys for fighting for them. Four guards walked behind them; two Unsullied, Podrick, and Brienne. Arya had told her it would be better to replace Brienne with someone else but Sansa knew it would be more believable to have her sworn sword with her.

“No, I’m not ill,” answered Sansa. “Sometimes it can be difficult seeing all the hardships of my people.”

“I understand. I see now why they love you so fiercely. You show them respect and loyalty. You stand up for them. You are truly formidable, Lady Sansa,” Daenerys gently said, her fingers lightly grazing Sansa’s hands.

“Thank you, your Grace.”

“Please, call me Daenerys. We are friends now, after all.”

Sansa nodded and looked into Daenerys’s eyes and saw genuine affection and friendship. It had been what she wanted, what she’d been working towards. But to use it against her. To wrench power away from her. And now where was she? Torn. Because she felt genuine affection as well. She had seen the good in Daenerys that Jon and Tyrion had always said was there, had seen that Daenerys was worthy of their trust. And now her skin tingled at Daenerys’s touch. Her cheeks warmed at receiving her smiles. Glancing down at their hands joined together, Sansa let them linger a little longer than what would be considered appropriate between friends. Sansa looked back up and a whisper of something passed through her heart but before she could consider its meaning she saw a hooded figure standing in the far distance ahead of them, staring at her. It was Arya, using one of her faces.

Sansa’s heart caught in her throat. She slowly took her hands away from Daenerys and looked around briefly. It was too crowded. The guards would catch Arya. She needed to get Daenerys away from them, somewhere alone, a place where it could be done quickly, painlessly, where Daenerys wouldn’t see that she’d been the one responsible. Not out here, where there would be screams and chaos. She had to act quickly before Arya came closer.

“Your Grace… could I speak to you privately? There’s something I’ve been struggling with that I don’t know quite how to say out loud, out here, but if I wait any longer I might be too afraid to speak it.”

“Of course, Lady Sansa,” Daenerys said, taking her arm and together they quickly walked along the narrow street. Sansa spotted a potter’s house that would allow privacy. It was small but the windows had a dusty layer so it would be hard to see inside and like many of the tradesmen’s homes, she knew it had an entrance on the other side. Arya would be able to sneak in that way as long as the guards stayed out front.

At the entrance, they asked the potter if they could use his home for a little while and he agreed.

“Ser Brienne, please stay out here while I speak with the Queen,” instructed Sansa. Daenerys nodded similarly to her guards and they stayed outside while she and Daenerys entered the small house, closing the door.

Sansa’s heart raced. She looked at the shelves of bowls and vases and began to panic. Already she had made a mistake. It was supposed to be in public. Now she had gotten Daenerys alone. Suspicion would fall on her. But that’s not what really scared her. Daenerys was looking at her expectantly, so much trust in her eyes. Sansa gasped at how much she didn’t want this. To see her face lose that trust. To see her eyes lose their light. She reached for Daenerys’s hands, pulling close to her, their breaths intermingling. She should shout out to Arya to stop but she couldn’t. That would betray Arya and her own involvement. Daenerys would know. She couldn’t let that happen. But she didn’t know what else to do. _What can I do?_

“Sansa… are you all right? What is it?” Daenerys whispered, encouraging her friend to speak.

_How could I let it get this far? I can’t let this happen._

“I…” Sansa was fraught with fear.

She felt a hand on her cheek. Daenerys’s hand. _She’s trying to calm me_. But the look in her eyes spoke of a different kind of hope. Sansa’s breath hitched and before she knew it she was pressing her lips against those of Daenerys. She heard Daenerys’s small squeak of surprise in her throat but instead of being pushed away, Daenerys’s hands grabbed her waist and pulled her closer. Sansa backed her against a table, holding her arms tightly. Arya would have to pull her off; Sansa would stay between them to keep Daenerys safe.

Deepening the kiss, Daenerys parted her lips and Sansa did the same, her arms wrapped around the smaller woman, using her height to bend Daenerys’s head back to kiss her harder. It was passionate, hungry lips and heavy breaths. When she caressed Daenerys’s tongue with her own, she felt Daenerys melt against her and Sansa relished the power she felt, the power Daenerys was giving her. At the same time she felt weak, like she was surrendering herself, like the layers of ice and steel she’d built up were finally falling away. Sansa didn’t know why she had resisted for so long and she felt overcome by the joy of it, to hold this woman in her arms, to taste her, to feel her warmth. Small hands clutched her back and her own hands wandered upward to grip silvery hair. She was delirious with desire and could tell Daenerys felt the same. Sansa thought she heard the back entrance gently open and she pulled Daenerys tightly to her, kissing her more roughly than before. A moment later it closed.

The danger was gone and a relieved Sansa pulled back to stare into dark, lustful eyes, knowing her eyes showed the same. Daenerys grabbed her face and pulled her back into their kiss, a teeth clashing, lip bruising fight for dominance. They were pulling at each other’s collars now, trying to reach sensitive necks. When Sansa felt a bite on her neck, she couldn’t help the moan it released. She felt the smile against her neck and her knees buckled but Daenerys’s arms held her up. Daenerys dragged kisses back to her mouth, fingers digging into her back as Sansa feverishly returned her kisses. Sansa noted that the woman was stronger than she looked. Strong enough to ride a dragon. Strong enough to strike down as many wights as she could in a desperate stand with her devoted friend until Arya killed the Night King. _Arya_.

Sansa opened her eyes in shock and pulled back, panting, hands smoothing her dress and brushing back loose strands of her hair. Daenerys stepped closer but Sansa stepped back again, hoarsely saying, “No, please.” This was too much. But she couldn’t explain what happened or why. Daenerys was also trying to catch her breath and she looked concerned for Sansa. The heat inside Sansa urged her to kiss her again, those tender, full lips. She almost did but then she closed her eyes, summoning her control.

“Guards,” Sansa called out in a loud, shaky voice. Brienne and the Unsullied entered, Podrick remained outside. “Please escort the Queen to the castle. She is tired.”

Daenerys looked as if she wanted to challenge this lie but seemed to understand Sansa’s silent plea to go.

“Lady Stark,” Daenerys said with a quick nod, and walked out with her Unsullied. Brienne stayed behind.

“My lady, is anything the matter?” asked Brienne, once Daenerys was gone.

“No, of course not. I will return to the castle now, too. I just need a moment,” she answered, wiping her eyes, trying to catch her breath. Sansa avoided Brienne’s eyes; she knew what she would see there. But Brienne was loyal and could be counted on to say nothing.

Walking out into the street, speaking with the various people as she made her way back towards the castle, Sansa felt a different kind of worry. And those layers of ice and steel reasserted themselves around her.

*::::*

Sansa was exhausted when she made it back to her rooms. She had noticed Daenerys in the courtyard but didn’t look her way as she rushed into the castle. Sansa thought only of her bed and the rest it promised. She would concentrate on the day’s actions, her actions, tomorrow after she was able to calm herself.

Walking in, she saw Arya waiting for her. With a deep sigh, Sansa closed the door behind her and waited for her sister’s wrath.

“What the seven hells was that, Sansa?!”

“Shhhh, keep your voice down.”

“All of our plans. Everything relied upon this…”

“I know.”

“I had it all worked out, Sansa. I knew something was wrong as soon as you entered that house,” Arya bit out.

“I know.”

Sansa walked over to her bed and sat on the edge.

“Why then?” Arya’s voice was a plea. She wanted to understand.

“All I know is that I want her to live. We were wrong. I was wrong.”

“That’s not what I’m asking,” Arya hissed. “Why were you kissing her?”

Arya’s rage boiled over but she managed to keep her voice low. Sansa still felt it as loud as any shout.

“I didn’t know how else to signal you away without letting her know,” Sansa offered half-heartedly, eyes lowered.

Arya scoffed, unbelieving, and began pacing.

“When you said you would be working her on the North’s behalf, I didn’t realize that meant you would seduce it out of her. Is that what you’re doing? Trading yourself like a…”

“Enough!” Sansa shouted so loudly, she was sure it could be heard down the corridors. And just as quickly as her anger had flared, it dissolved into self-doubt. Is that what she had been doing? Her intent had been to use friendship and the promise of allies but hadn’t she flirted, too? Hadn’t she touched Daenerys intimately? That day of their race? That morning in her bed? If Daenerys had been willing to let those lingering looks and touches remain in a vague fog of denial before, she would not do so now that Sansa had given them a foundation in the form of a very passionate kiss.

“What about the messages to the other lords? Gaining support against her. Are we just going to tell them to forget it?”

“I never sent the messages,” Sansa whispered.

“What?” Arya stopped, approaching Sansa to hear better.

Sansa looked into her sister’s eyes and repeated, “I never sent the messages.”

Arya blinked rapidly, mouth slightly opened. Sansa stood up, towering over her sister.

“I thought it was because I wanted to make sure the deed was done so that the other lords wouldn’t know of our involvement. To at least make sure her people would never have any reason to blame us. Varys’s little birds are everywhere after all.”

“And now?” Arya asked.

Sansa turned around and faced the bed, remembering Daenerys there, how she looked the previous morning. Her hands began to tremble and she clenched them into fists.

“And now I suppose it was because I was giving myself time to back out.”

She heard Arya take a few steps towards the door. Sansa thought she would storm out but then she heard a small voice say, “Do you love her?”

Sansa turned to her sharply, facing Arya’s back. “Of course not, don’t be ridiculous.”

Arya whipped around. “I don’t believe you. I saw the way you were kissing her. How she was kissing you. That passion was real.”

“Arya…” Sansa warned. She didn’t want to discuss this any longer.

“What about Jon? If he finds out about the two of you...”

At Arya’s mention of Jon, Sansa felt ashamed and turned to sit back down on the edge of the bed. She wanted to point out that he’d ended it with Daenerys and had no claim to her but it would be a pathetic argument.

“He won’t find out. And you’ll keep silent about this,” Sansa said. “Promise me; promise me you won’t say anything.”

“Fine! I promise. So what now? She’s not going to free the North, Sansa. Everything you want is now out of reach.”

And it was. Sansa saw clearly that she had conceded the North, unexpectedly, and after weeks of worrying over how best to free it. But she’d also spent the last several weeks wishing she could let go of her need for control. Well now she had done it and it felt freeing in a way; being able to say that she trusted Daenerys with her people felt right and true.

“She will be a good queen, Arya. I’ve seen it. She will have the people behind her.”

“The lords will remain wary.”

“And when have the lords ever shown themselves to be otherwise?” asked Sansa harshly. “All they care about is power and the weight of their coffers. They won’t have as much power under her rule but the peace will fill their coffers just the same.”

Sansa glared angrily at unseen, bristling lords but then softened when she remembered Arya in the room. “She just needs the right people behind her, Arya. Not Tyrion, not Varys, she doesn’t trust their judgement anymore. She needs people she respects who don’t just tell her what to do, but show her. Instead of threatening her position, I should’ve been supporting it all along. I let myself be blinded by fear. My dislike of her, all of it was because I was afraid to trust her, afraid of what she was capable of. But aren’t we all capable of terrible things? Haven’t we also done terrible things?”

Arya stood straight and unmoving, her eyes never leaving Sansa’s. “It seems your plan to gain her trust has been twisted around. You do love her.”

Sansa looked down at her feet. _Even if I did…_ But no, she couldn’t think of that possibility. She shook her head, still not looking up at Arya.

“It’s been only two weeks since I started this friendship.”

She heard Arya walk towards her and she was surprised when Arya sat down next to her.

“It happens faster than you think, Sansa,” Arya answered softly. Sansa was surprised at the quick change. She stared curiously at her, wondering what Arya knew of love. She would have to pay more attention to what her sister had been up to. But now wasn’t the time to dig deeper, she needed to shift the subject of love away from her to Jon.

“Jon loves her. And I will help him see that the best chance for the North and our position is for him to renew his attentions towards her. Even you suggested this option after Jon told us, remember? We must choose this queen, Arya. When you find the right time, speak with him, let him know you’ll support him in his choice of her.”

The shaking in Sansa’s hands was getting harder to hide. Sansa began to feel like at any moment she might break down into tears.

“And if her own attentions are now focused elsewhere?” Arya wasn’t arguing with her anymore. Sansa heard a more concerned tone.

“Then I will redirect them,” she answered faintly, twisting her hands together. In the back of Sansa’s mind she wondered if it would be that easy. Daenerys had returned her kiss with equal fervor. If she hadn’t pulled away, who knows what would’ve happened. _I’ll find a way. The North is hers. I just need to ensure a healthy alliance between us._

Sansa felt Arya’s hand cover her own.

“Just take deep breaths,” Arya whispered.

“Arya… Arya, I don’t know what’s happening…” Sansa’s breathing became more erratic and her heart was beating rapidly.

“It’s all right. Just breathe.”

“If you hadn’t stopped…”

“Then you would’ve fought me or found another way to stop me. You wouldn’t have let it happen. Keep breathing.”

“Arya…” Sansa looked up, letting the tears fall at last. _I almost lost her, I almost murdered her_.

“Shhhh, just empty your mind, try to relax, just breathe.”

Sansa listened to Arya’s soothing words and focused on breathing. After a while the trembling stopped but the exhaustion returned and she moved to lie down on the bed. Arya adjusted and helped with her legs and skirts.

“Are you still angry?” Sansa whispered.

“Yes. But I’m glad you were brave enough to stop it. Given your feelings for her, it would’ve broken you. And the Lady of Winterfell needs to stay strong.”

Sansa nodded, said ‘thank you’ to her sister, and closed her eyes. She didn’t have the energy to continue arguing with Arya about her feelings and wanted to rest for a few hours.

*::::*

Daenerys entered the castle grounds and noticed Jon talking with Ser Davos. She growled and turned away from them. Missandei approached, noticing how her queen seemed disturbed and angry, but Daenerys waved her away.

“Your Grace,” said Tyrion, approaching from behind.

Daenerys turned around to face her Hand. She hadn’t spoken alone with him in days and now that she was standing in front of him, she wanted nothing more than to strike him. _He loves Sansa. My Sansa_. That last thought brought heat between her thighs and she masked a gasp by turning and raising her hand to let him know she needed a moment to collect her thoughts. Her gaze caught Sansa returning to the keep with Ser Brienne at her side and Daenerys’s body flushed again with desire. She watched until she disappeared into the castle and Sansa didn’t once look at her. For one heart-stopping moment, she felt like rushing inside and hurrying Sansa into the nearest bedchamber to make Sansa moan again. Then she noticed Tyrion standing patiently waiting for her to address him.

Jealousy burned within her. Jealousy over his intimacy with Sansa and the night they shared. Images of Sansa tangled up with Tyrion came to her and she began to feel her anger turn to hate. Daenerys closed her eyes and inhaled deeply and remembered how Sansa had taken her breath away. Sansa had looked positively frantic trying to speak with her and she began to hope that Sansa would finally voice what seemed to be happening between them since they began spending time together. The kiss was more than she’d expected and her skin still burned with the memory of it. The tall and beautiful Sansa Stark had clutched her with a fiery passion. But then she’d pulled away without any explanation and Daenerys’s frustration over that made her angry at everything. She needed an outlet, she needed to get away from this castle.

“Lord Tyrion, I need to leave for a few hours. I wish to see how Rhaegal is recovering. I will take Drogon and fly with them for a while.” Daenerys walked toward the gate, looking at the sky, already seeing Drogon and Rhaegal fly towards the grounds outside. They knew she needed them.

“Are you sure that is wise, your Grace?” Tyrion asked, following behind her as quickly as he could.

“No,” she laughed ruefully. “But I need time alone.”

Tyrion stopped following her and she waited for her children to land. Drogon readied himself and she quickly mounted him. Without another word to Tyrion, she flew up into the clouds to think about what to do about her situation with Sansa Stark.

The wind in her hair and on her face was a pleasant distraction. She noticed how Rhaegal seemed stronger and this pleased her, too. She let time pass without focusing on anything. Her children seemed to know where to go and she let them fly. Before she realized it, they had brought her to the waterfall that Jon had shown her. She smiled down at Drogon. Her feelings were not a secret from him.

After they landed, Daenerys climbed down off Drogon and enjoyed the beauty around her. The beauty of the North. This time thoughts of Jon didn’t anger her. She needed to face those thoughts if she were to figure out what was really behind that kiss with Sansa. With Jon, she’d admired his honor, his bravery, and she’d felt an immediate connection with him. With Sansa, there was that similar initial animosity but their dynamic had been different. Sansa didn’t like her, didn’t trust her, she disrespected her in front of Jon and her council. She did everything to challenge her, trying to push her to do something rash and show Jon and everyone else that Daenerys Targaryen didn’t deserve their fealty. Sansa was representative of how the whole of Westeros viewed her and no one, not Tyrion nor Jon, could make Sansa yield to her.

Instead Daenerys had yielded to Sansa. At the first overture of friendship, Daenerys jumped at the opportunity. Sansa got Daenerys to acquiesce to things she’d not bothered with since arriving in Westeros: rest for the armies, showing care for the smallfolk, and appreciating the responsibilities of being the lady of a great house. The kingdom, accounting, the household, the stores, the petitioners, day by day Daenerys had watched and tried to learn, vowing to take a closer interest in the running of the Red Keep and King’s Landing when she took the throne. She had tried to rule in Meereen and her advisors had done their best but it was an entirely different experience seeing what true leadership and rule could be.

Daenerys was humbled by Sansa. No longer did she view her as an obstinate thorn in her side. She admired her and wanted her approval. But was this Sansa’s plan all along? Not just to get Daenerys more sympathetic to the North’s needs but to go so far as to seduce her? It wasn’t the first time that thought crossed her mind and she thought back to the beginning. The hints of an attraction were there even then but Sansa seemed as surprised as she whenever things got too close, which seemed to happen more often than not. Neither of them helped matters by the touches, the increasing frequency and daring of their flirtations, and the night she’d spent in Sansa’s bed. All of that had led up to this, this unexpected and very much welcomed kiss.

Last night she’d been worried about Sansa’s intentions. But the conversation with Varys afterwards yielded no new information on Sansa’s activities. No additional ravens had been sent by Sansa as far as he knew and no whispers reached him from those more disagreeable northern houses about anything being planned. Last night’s ‘game’ in the Godswood didn’t seem to be anything more than Sansa trying to gain further insight into her character. _Or maybe she was trying to push me away and fight against her feelings._

Turning her thoughts back to Jon, Daenerys sighed. Sansa had distracted her from her confusion and anger with him but Jon still lingered in her heart. Could she really be this attracted to Sansa or was she using their friendship as a balm for her heartbreak over Jon? If he came to her tomorrow and told her he was ready to embrace their relationship, what would she say? Daenerys didn’t have answers to these questions. The only thing she knew for certain: one kiss with the Lady of Winterfell would not be enough.

*::::*

Jon Stark was standing on the balcony over the yard alone when Sansa slowly walked towards him. It was early evening and nearly time for dinner. The rest had helped but the first thing she thought of upon waking was finding Jon. She stood by his side and enjoyed the quiet happenings in the yard below. It was peaceful watching people go about their tasks.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with the Queen,” Jon said, without looking at her.

“Yes, I have,” answered Sansa.

“I thought at first you were plotting against her,” he huffed, “It seemed too quick a turnaround for you given how you treated her in the beginning. But it seems you’ve really become friends. You two seem comfortable together.”

Sansa didn’t answer at first, schooling her features and choosing her words carefully. “She’s a remarkable woman. I misjudged her.”

“Well, your friend has flown off on a dragon to who knows where. They’ve been gone for hours and it’s nearly sundown.”

“Are you worried about her?”

“Of course I’m worried about her. She’s my queen.”

She nodded in response and after a moment, decided the direct approach would be best with her brother. “Do you still love her, Jon?”

He looked at her sharply then. Then looked around to make sure there were no eavesdroppers.

“You know that it’s over between us,” he whispered.

“I wish to speak with you. Accompany me to the Godswood?”

Jon nodded. They didn’t meet anyone along the way and before they knew it, they were surrounded by the peaceful wood. She didn’t say a word until she was sure no one had followed them.

“Jon, I think you’ve made a mistake spurning your queen.”

“She’s my blood, Sansa,” he said through gritted teeth.

“So what!” Sansa said, her voice rising. “I don’t care how you’re related. Arya doesn’t care.”

“Sansa…”

She turned to the weirwood tree and took several deep breaths. It had always been difficult arguing with her siblings without letting her emotions interfere with her responses. Jon needed to hear her advice, not his sister harping at him. Sansa turned back to him and spoke more calmly.

“You love her and she needs you by her side. Not just as a loyal advisor. You two complement each other, I refused to see it before because I was so scared for the North and angry at you for giving it away but you were right to do it. You should… you should wed her.” Sansa’s voice quavered slightly in that last sentence. A strange ache overtook her heart at the thought of Daenerys being wed to Jon but it was the right thing for the realm, for the North.

“The North will care who I am to her,” Jon shook his head.

“You don’t have to tell any of them who you really are. You can still be her consort, if anonymity is your wish. You can have her legitimize you as a Stark, keeping your secret to the grave. I have already sworn never to tell. And even if you did tell everyone, the North won’t care because your family will stand behind you. Arya, Bran, and I will stand behind you.”

“I don’t know, Sansa. I don’t know if I can just change how my kinship with her makes me feel when I touch her. The hurt on her face when I can’t…” he trailed off, not wishing to share the details, for which Sansa was grateful. She didn’t want to think of them embracing, not for one moment longer, especially since the memory of her kiss with Daenerys from several hours earlier was still fresh in her mind.

“Think about it some more, Jon. You’ve not known her as family. You’ve had separate lives. She is simply the woman you love. The blood connection is incidental. I’m telling you that I don’t care, that I won’t think less of you. I will support your marriage, I will support the both of you.”

“You would bend the knee?” Jon seemed almost shocked.

“I would do what was best for the North. You taught me that. If not for your love for her then for us. You know what she’s capable of, how she will view us without you at her side. I’ve worked these last weeks to show her that real people need leadership and not a conqueror. You undo everything and put us at risk if she sees you as a threat to her claim. And we are threatened, too, because of our knowledge of who you are.”

Sansa gave him a hug and walked away, leaving him alone with his thoughts. She had exaggerated the threat to the Starks. After that kiss, she knew she could control that threat if it ever emerged because she’d done more than just earn some of Daenerys’s trust. Much more.

She should’ve been happy. Daenerys felt something for her and she could use that on behalf of the North’s interests. It was an advantage that Littlefinger and Cersei would not have failed to exploit. But the guilt she felt told her not to do that to Daenerys. Sansa was tired of the lies, tired of the manipulations, tired of being afraid to take a chance. Daenerys deserved better. And Jon would be better for her. Sansa would forge a different path and choose them both to ensure the North’s safety. That’s what mattered. Not these feelings, not the way Daenerys’s sighs felt while biting those full lips. Now all Sansa had to do was figure out how to face her when she returned. Resisting Daenerys had been difficult before but now that she knew what kissing her was like, she wasn't sure if she could resist her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what’d you think? :-) 
> 
> Yes, my Dany was saved by a kiss and I have no shame about that writing choice whatsoever, lol. Come on, I’ve been writing an angsty romance not a darkfic. 
> 
> The more I read the final draft of this chapter, the more tempted I am to leave it as the ending. I like the open-endedness of it. Like anything can happen. But I’ve grown to love this pairing and I want to see more of how they deal with the fallout of this kiss so I’m sticking to my original plan. More denial, emotional and physical intimacy (it’s a mature-rated fic after all), and fear and impulsive choices, ahhhh. Fair warning, more emphasis will be put on the love story and less on politics. It won’t be the same kind of tension-building as before the kiss but dealing with guilt (Sansa), duty and responsibilities (both), and past lovers (mostly Dany, but Sansa too) provides its own kind of tension.
> 
> Work has me busy again which means updates will be a little slower over the next chapters. Hopefully not longer than two weeks between updates but we’ll see.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Sansa hadn’t planned to go to the dinner meal in the Great Hall but Daenerys’s absence worried her as it had worried Jon and she wanted to be immediately available in case something happened. She tried not to think of the kiss earlier in the day or the confrontation with Arya, where she’d essentially collapsed in emotion in front of her sister and required her comfort. Instead she poked at her food and focused on Jon, who still looked full of worry. Whenever he glanced in her direction, she could tell he was thinking about what she had told him.

Suddenly Daenerys entered the hall and the murmurs increased in volume as she walked straight to the high table. Their eyes connected briefly and Sansa could’ve sworn she saw a small quirk in the corner of Daenerys’s mouth, which sent a flutter through her chest, but Daenerys then directed her gaze to Jon. When Sansa looked at Jon, she saw relief light up his face as he stood up and walked around the table to greet her. Sansa didn’t know what words were said, and their interaction still seemed stiff, but the smile on Daenerys’s face told Sansa all she needed to know. Jon’s greeting towards her and Daenerys’s attention towards him, the jealousy this inspired in Sansa was surprising and she bit it back as her brother and his queen walked closely together to take their places at the table to eat. Sansa ate quietly without looking again at Daenerys and Jon.

Being so near Daenerys, however, made it impossible to continue ignoring what had happened today. Her very presence brought Sansa’s thoughts into focus on their kiss and all their other intimate moments. She had felt nothing like it before. Sansa looked at Tyrion, who was conversing animatedly with his brother, and she smiled sadly before looking back down at her plate. He was a man that would never hurt her, and during their night together he had treated her as if she were the only woman in the world that mattered. She had needed that experience more than anything because she never expected to find it with anyone else, had even told him she didn’t think she could ever love anyone in that way. In spite of the connection she felt, in spite of the thought in the back of her mind that she shouldn’t rule him out completely once all of this was done, Sansa had been able to end it and set Tyrion aside without much effort. The cold reality she faced now was that everything with Tyrion now paled next to the heat she felt when Daenerys was in her arms earlier today. It overwhelmed her in a way that was almost frightening in its strength, making her wonder if Arya’s belief about her feelings was true. Even now, when she knew she had to be strong and set this desire aside as well, her heart quaked at the thought, rebelling against her and demanding she march over to that side of the high table and pull Daenerys into another mind-shattering kiss.

Sansa huffed in frustration and pushed her plate aside, having had her fill of food, wine, and being ignored. This response from Daenerys had been unexpected. She thought Daenerys would swoop in and need to speak with her immediately, perhaps even demand a finish to what Sansa had started. Her response made Sansa question whether Daenerys had felt even a fraction of the passion she had felt. Had she misjudged Daenerys’s reactions? These feelings were driving her mad and she rose to circulate through the room. It had been a while since she’d socialized, having been preoccupied with Daenerys for so long, and she had an urge to demonstrate her own independence from their ‘friendship’.

She went to exchange greetings with Brienne and Podrick, the conversation familiar and comforting. Every once in a while she’d glance to the high table and would catch Daenerys’s eye. She was sitting and conversing with Missandei, Jon having moved to sit with Tormund, but even when Sansa turned back to Brienne and Podrick, she could still feel the heat of Daenerys’s gaze. And it was the response Sansa had been looking for, the acknowledgement that Daenerys had been affected by this just as much as she had been. Sansa’s earlier insecurity was replaced by a smug satisfaction.

Moving through the hall to speak with others, Sansa felt her eyes, the flutter it sent her a reminder of how Daenerys had bitten her neck, and it was intoxicating. The more she ignored Daenerys, the stronger the heat of that gaze. Smirking to herself, she slowly walked to where Tyrion was sitting with Jaime. It was perhaps wicked of Sansa to see if she could inspire jealousy in Daenerys but she was feeling a little spiteful after the way Daenerys had smiled at Jon. When Sansa neared their table she risked a glance towards the high table and saw Daenerys’s eyes widen slightly. _Hmmm._ Tyrion stood up for brief greetings and as they exchanged pleasantries Sansa was tempted to sit at their table to further push Daenerys’s reaction but before she could make up her mind she saw Daenerys walking towards them, a dangerous look in her eyes. _There it is_, she noted to herself with an inward smile. Sansa quickly wished them a good evening and proceeded to the next table before Daenerys reached them.

For the next half hour it went like that, staying apart but their eyes continually seeking the other out. Daenerys still wasn’t comfortable approaching everyone who ate in the hall so Sansa was able to keep her distance. Sansa would catch smiles and smirks on Daenerys’s face as she was talking to someone else and knew they were meant for her, and she began to wonder if the smile Daenerys had given Jon in greeting had also been for her. As she spoke with others, Sansa formed her own smirks and smiles when she knew Daenerys’s eyes were on her. She would sigh and remind herself that she was supposed to be redirecting Daenerys’s affections but the selfish part of her was enjoying this secret dance of theirs.

Then Sansa noticed Jon alone at the high table and knew it was time to stop. She was supposed to be helping him, not sending clandestine smiles to the woman he loved across a crowded room, not enjoying herself when she had come so close to being a murderer. Sansa didn’t bother to see where Daenerys was and made her way along the side of the hall towards the doors, saying good night to people as she passed, when Daenerys suddenly blocked her path.

“Good evening, your Grace,” said Sansa politely, “I trust you and your dragons are well.” _Don’t look at her mouth._

“Yes, Rhaegal is healing nicely. It was nice to get away for a while to think.”

Sansa didn’t ask but Daenerys continued, “Not of very serious subjects, in case you were curious. Just wondering how to convince you to ride with me on Drogon, things of that nature.”

Sansa laughed in spite of herself. “That will never happen.”

“Really?” asked Daenerys, and in a whisper she added, “Because I used to think Lady Sansa of House Stark would never passionately kiss me but today proved me wrong.”

“Hush,” whispered Sansa harshly, looking around to see who might be listening, but her worry still didn’t stop the tingle on her lips at Daenerys’s reference to their kiss.

“And what were you thinking about while I was gone?” Daenerys teased, seeming to enjoy Sansa’s discomfort. She moved to stand beside Sansa, her fingers grazing Sansa’s lightly. Sansa should’ve pulled away but instead she returned the slight graze with her own. The heat within her burned, as did the longing to share another kiss. She couldn’t help but want to feel more of Daenerys against her.

“Things I shouldn’t be thinking about, Daenerys,” Sansa sighed, looking away. She heard Daenerys’s small gasp at her first use of Daenerys’s given name.

“And if I were to say I was thinking of the same things?” Daenerys said softly, speaking straight ahead but the words shot straight through to Sansa’s heart.

“I would say that…” Sansa paused. _I want you._ That’s what she wanted to say. She wanted to say it with every heated fiber of her being. But duty to her people and duty to Jon silenced her.

Instead Sansa whispered, “I would say that we shouldn’t.” Sansa pulled her fingers away and was about to walk away when she felt Daenerys grab her wrist. The aggressiveness made Sansa gasp slightly and the touch on her wrist sent a wave of arousal through her. How could one touch make her feel so much?

Daenerys turned to face Sansa. Sansa turned as well and pulled her wrist out of Daenerys’s grasp, glancing around again to see who was watching and she was startled when she saw Arya looking at them from across the room. Arya hadn’t been there all night and Sansa wondered when she’d arrived.

“Come with me now, Lady Sansa. I will not have this conversation here.”

“What more needs to be said, your Grace?” Sansa asked defiantly, hoping her outward tone would help center herself.

“More than this,” hissed Daenerys angrily. “Somewhere we can speak freely. Please.”

Sansa shot another look at Arya, who seemed passive in her interest, but Sansa knew better. Her sister was on the alert for any need Sansa had of her. Daenerys was right, they couldn’t talk out here in the open, and she nodded in agreement.

“My rooms,” suggested Daenerys.

“No, I can’t.”

“Then yours.”

“No, not there either. Please let me think.” Sansa went through her mind, and every place she thought of was bad for different reasons. Too private and things might happen, too public and who knows who lurked nearby. _The crypts? The Godswood? No, no, no. The only place that makes sense is Daenerys’s suggestion. Her own guards keeping eavesdroppers away from her rooms won’t have to be explained away._

“All right. Your rooms.”

Daenerys caught Grey Worm’s eye and she went to speak with him. Sansa stayed where she was and several moments later Daenerys returned.

“Let’s go, Lady Sansa,” Daenerys said calmly. Sansa walked alongside her and kept her face friendly, should anyone see them and wonder why they were leaving the Great Hall together with Grey Worm behind them.

*::::*

When they reached the corridor that led to Daenerys’s rooms, Sansa became nervous. For a moment she thought Daenerys would lead them to her bedchamber but Sansa was relieved when she walked to the door that led to her solar. Once inside, Daenerys closed the door, turned around, and she looked sheepishly at Sansa.

“I’m sorry for getting angry before. I just needed to talk with you and you were acting so strangely. After earlier today…”

“It was a mistake, your Grace. I shouldn’t have… “

“Don’t do that, Sansa. You can’t lie to me now. I felt it,” said Daenerys, walking towards her and taking her hands. She whispered, “I felt how much you wanted it. And I wanted it, too.”

“Daenerys…” breathed Sansa, acutely aware that Daenerys had stepped even closer against her, eyes looking up into hers and then at her lips.

“I like the way you say my name,” murmured Daenerys, sighing loudly. “Sansa… Sansa, why do you keep fighting this?” Daenerys’s eyes drifted closed as she pressed her lips against the corner of Sansa’s mouth.

Her lips lingered there, waiting for Sansa to relent, and Sansa’s temptation grew. She thought she’d been prepared for this but now that they were alone, Sansa’s resistance faltered. Daenerys was touching her, lips just a hair’s breadth away, bringing with them the memory of their softness against hers during their first kiss. That kiss had been rushed, an impulsive decision brought about by panic and fear. Sansa wanted a different kind of memory now. She brought up her hands to cup Daenerys’s face, her eyes locked on the other woman’s. Her breathing became ragged, like every breath wasn’t bringing her enough air. But it wasn’t air she needed, she needed Daenerys’s mouth on hers. Sansa brought her forehead to rest against Daenerys’s, searching for the willpower to stop.

_“Did you bend the knee to save the North or because you love her?”_

Sansa’s own words echoed in her mind and she pulled her head back, moving her hands towards the nape of Daenerys’s neck, just behind her ears. Jon never answered that question but she already knew the truth. It was both. Loving Daenerys made him see that she was not to be feared. Had the same happened to her? One of Daenerys’s hands made its way to Sansa’s neck, her thumb tracing a line against her jawline. _She’s alive. She’s here and she’s alive._ Thankful tears welled in her eyes and Sansa leaned forward, gently grazing her lips against Daenerys’s, feeling their tenderness.

“We both know how this ends, Daenerys,” Sansa said in the faintest of whispers against Daenerys’s mouth, her heart pounding, sadness creeping into her eyes. _It isn’t meant to be._

“Oh Sansa,” whispered Daenerys in response, lightly nibbling around Sansa’s mouth, teasing her. “You have no idea.”

Sansa’s heart nearly stopped at the way Daenerys had turned her words, painting a picture in her mind of the two of them in bed that inflamed her desire. _Just one more kiss_, she argued with herself. _One more and then I’ll stop it_. She closed her eyes and pressed forward.

Daenerys let her take the lead. It was slower than their first kiss but no less passionate. With every parting of their lips, and every touch their tongues made against each other, Sansa was deliberate, savoring every taste, every sigh against her mouth. Daenerys’s hands wandered along her chest and then her back, pulling their bodies together, but Sansa kept her own hands close to Daenerys’s face. Fingers softly caressing her cheeks, drawing lines along her jaw and throat. She wanted to concentrate as much as possible on this kiss, how pleasurable it was, how Daenerys trembled against her when Sansa bit her lower lip. She wanted to remember it all.

When Sansa finally pulled away, she enjoyed the satisfied smile that Daenerys gave her, eyes still closed as if lost in a dream. Warmth filled her at being able to please this worldly queen. _Could it be true? Is Arya right?_

“Come to my bedchamber,” whispered Daenerys, opening her desire-filled eyes.

“I can’t,” answered Sansa, shaking her head. _I shouldn’t have kissed her again. I’ve mislead her._

“After the way you’ve just kissed me, I think that you can, I think that you want to more than anything,” said Daenerys, grabbing her hand and pulling her to the door that led to the bedchamber.

“Daenerys, we mustn’t,” she said, her voice quaking slightly at Daenerys’s words, recognizing the truth in them. The throb between her legs was becoming unbearable, her body demanding release, and she desperately wanted to go into that bedchamber. _But I can’t. It doesn’t matter that I stopped it, I still betrayed her and I can’t take advantage of her like this_. She pulled her hand away. “I’m sorry, I know that kiss just now… I know too much has happened to deny… that I’m tempted. Because I am. But I lost myself. This can’t happen. I won’t let it happen.”

For a moment, Daenerys looked dazed but then Sansa saw her straighten, steeling herself.

“And why not?” asked Daenerys.

“You know why.”

“I don’t, Sansa. Explain to me your reasons.”

“They’re not just my reasons, they’re _our_ reasons. We need to take care not to let ourselves be ruled by selfish desires. To not let ourselves forget our responsibilities to our people. We know too many stories of the catastrophes that happen to a kingdom when two people who should have restrained themselves, didn’t.”

“I hardly think one night will end a kingdom. Did you give similar consideration before deciding to bed my Hand?”

Sansa’s anger flared. She recognized Daenerys was lashing out in the face of her rejection but the remarks still stung. First with the seeming casualness with which Daenerys considered their potential coupling, and then with the accusatory question which Sansa knew meant ‘you’ll sleep with him, why not with me?’ as if Sansa could so easily make herself vulnerable like this, as if the countless hours considering and reconsidering Tyrion had been just about politics. And Sansa’s answer, the one that she wanted to shout back at Daenerys, but let gnarl in her chest instead: _Because I knew he would never hurt me!_ The bitterness of that truth sank deep into her gut. That night with him hadn’t been impulsive; it hadn’t been a complete surrendering of herself. She’d maintained her control even then and knew without a doubt that she had not been in any danger of opening up the deepest part of her heart that she’d locked away the day her father had been executed. Part of her did love him, but not the part that mattered, not the part that was in danger right now in this room with Daenerys. Saying these things to Daenerys, however, would bring this conversation to the feelings that Sansa couldn’t face or think about. It wouldn’t be a night of pleasure that Sansa could walk away from like she did with Tyrion. Already she struggled with coming back to herself after kissing her. What would sleeping with Daenerys do to her?

Suppressing her anger, Sansa said, “Too much is at stake. You don’t know what could happen. And then there’s Jon, he’s my brother.” Grasping, that’s what she was doing. Putting Jon between them allowed her to sidestep how she felt.

“Jon and I are over. He’s made that clear.”

A flinch in Daenerys’s eyes as she said this was all Sansa needed to find the strength to continue pushing her away.

“No, you’re not. You hide it well but I’ve seen how you two feel. What’s happening between us is nothing. A lust-filled distraction, that’s all.”

“That’s not how I feel about you, Sansa,” Daenerys argued, stepping towards her.

Sansa held her ground, stiffened, and said, “But that’s how I feel. I’ve made up my mind. For the good of all involved, we can only be friends.”

Sadness came over Daenerys and Sansa realized that she had been too cold; that she was doing the exact same thing Jon had done. Inspiring and then spurning affection. Rejecting her outright could antagonize her and she didn’t want to lose their friendship. Quickly, Sansa grabbed her hand and squeezed tightly. She needed to be careful with her next words; she had to find that elusive middle ground.

“I don’t give my friendship lightly, Daenerys Stormborn. I am a Stark. It is hard for me to trust outsiders, to trust anyone really, but you’ve earned it.”

Tears sprang from Daenerys’s eyes and she felt Daenerys squeeze her hand. And before she could talk herself out of it, Sansa hugged her and whispered ‘I’m sorry’. Turning her face slightly into Daenerys’s neck, Sansa felt soft skin against her nose. She pulled out of the embrace and smiled. Sansa tried to convince herself that she could do this; she could maintain this friendship and not cross that line again. She may not have won a free North but keeping Daenerys’s favor toward the North was still a priority.

“I’m not going to pretend I’m not disappointed, Lady Sansa, but your friendship has become very important to me and I do wish for it to continue,” said Daenerys.

“Thank you, your Grace,” Sansa said gently, using formal titles again to deepen the divide between them. “Thank you for understanding and for not holding this against me. I should take my leave and say goodnight.”

Sansa walked to the door and put her hand on the latch then turned her head and said, “As I was leaving Winter town today some of the people asked if we would be returning soon. Shall we go again tomorrow?”

Daenerys nodded, blinked her eyes, and then took a deep breath. “Of course, Lady Sansa. Tomorrow would be fine. Goodnight and I’ll see you then.”

*::::*

The day in Winter town was uneventful but Sansa enjoyed herself more than she ever had before. The pressures of that murderous plan now gone, she could fully appreciate how gracious Daenerys was with the smallfolk. The problem was that Daenerys barely spoke to her. The awkwardness over yesterday was all around them. After they returned to Winterfell, Daenerys couldn’t even look at her as they gave their parting words, nor did they make plans to see each other again for another outing the next day.

It hurt Sansa to feel their friendship not be as close as it was but she tried to convince herself it was better this way. Maybe being true friends was too much to hope for, especially since there would always be a lie between them, this guilt over what she’d nearly done that would never leave her. She shuddered to think what would happen if Daenerys ever found out. Execution would be a given but that wasn’t what bothered Sansa the most. Instead it was the hurt that her friend would feel at this utter betrayal. It was selfish but she didn’t want Daenerys to hate her. Dwelling on it wouldn’t help matters, however, and Sansa still had the North to think about. Sansa resolved to do more to show Daenerys the benefits of House Stark’s loyalty.

The following afternoon, Sansa made her way to the War Room where she knew Tyrion would be. When she arrived she saw him busy reading and writing messages. Varys was there, too, but when Tyrion looked up and saw her, he asked Varys to leave them. After he’d gone, Sansa and Tyrion looked quietly at one another and then she felt a small smile tug at the corners of her mouth. They’d gone through too much for her to be cold with him now.

He asked, “Does this mean we’re talking again?”

“Not at all, Lord Tyrion,” she replied with a smirk.

“So if we’re not talking, what are we doing?”

“Well, the first thing I’m going to do is sit at that chair across from you. It looks quite comfortable and I would like to rest my feet.”

Sansa walked over and sat down, making a great show of fixing the skirt of her dress and settling in.

“Am I supposed to be doing something while you rest your feet, Lady Sansa?” Tyrion asked with a grin.

“You should continue working, of course. I see you reading messages. Would you like to read some of mine?”

Sansa reached into a hidden pocket of her skirt and brought out a small stack of scrolls and handed them to him.

“These are copies,” she whispered. “I’ve already sent the originals this morning.”

Tyrion took the parchments, glanced through the first couple, and his eyes slowly widened in astonishment.

“Lady Sansa…” he replied breathlessly. “You continue to amaze me, my lady.”

Sansa gave him a wry smile and said, “Be careful, Lord Tyrion. You shouldn’t let ladies know how they affect you lest they see it as a weakness to exploit.”

His eyes twinkled and Sansa knew he had a perfect reply in mind but before he could speak they heard someone clear their throat. Looking up, Sansa saw Daenerys coolly looking at them.

“Your Grace,” Tyrion said, standing up. Sansa slowly stood up as well.

“Lord Tyrion, Lady Sansa. Working hard together, I see,” said Daenerys. She addressed them both but kept her eyes on Sansa.

Sansa could feel the tension rise in the room. The awkwardness of having kissed the two of them made Sansa uncomfortable but she tried to keep her reserve intact. Daenerys was clearly jealous but Sansa refused to let Daenerys cower her over her friendship with Tyrion. She was allowed to speak with whomever she wished.

Tyrion looked between the two of them and broke the silence, “Um, yes, Lady Sansa brought over these messages for me to read.”

He handed them to Daenerys and Sansa tried to keep the satisfied smile off her face as she saw the realization come over Daenerys’s features. When Daenerys looked up at her again, it was in amazement and gratitude.

“I’ve instructed replies to be addressed to you, your Grace. Lord Tyrion will keep you informed, I’m sure. Good day to the both of you.” Sansa rushed through these words and left the room without waiting for a reply.

*::::*

Daenerys looked down again at the messages, fighting the blush that wanted to crawl up her neck. She knew Tyrion was staring at her.

“You’ve done it. You’ve won her,” stated Tyrion.

“I didn’t win her,” she replied, knowing Tyrion had not the slightest idea of what she was referring to. It really was hard being in his presence now. He and Sansa had been so playful in their words with each other and seeing them together like that had pained her heart. Daenerys sat down in the chair Sansa had just used. She put the messages back down on the table.

“But you did, she’s declared for you. These are messages to Glover, Manderly, Cerwyn, the Vale, her uncle Lord Tully, and more, declaring herself to House Targaryen and that House Stark requests all their bannermen, and other allies, to do the same. You’ll have little trouble from the North and the Vale now; you may even have the Riverlands if her uncle responds favorably. How did you do it?”

“I did nothing. I suspect she is only supporting her brother’s decision and providing the image of a united House Stark.”

He eyed her in disbelief and a healthy amount of suspicion but Daenerys held his gaze and gave nothing away.

“Well, your Grace, we should be getting the first replies in several days. According to Lady Stark, she’s already sent the messages. I will let you know as they arrive.”

“Thank you, Lord Tyrion,” Daenerys said quickly, rising and walking out the door.

Daenerys finally allowed herself to feel what just happened. Her heart raced as she walked to her rooms. She needed to find Missandei and tell her. She had indeed won the Lady of Winterfell. It was a victory but a bittersweet one given how Sansa had rejected her romantically. It should’ve been enough, having Sansa’s declaration, but she couldn’t help wanting more. She had felt it in that kiss, the second one that happened in her solar… there was lust, of course there was, but there was something else like a deeper-held longing. Daenerys had wanted to kiss her all night long to explore those mysteries, to figure out why Sansa had finally taken that step in Winter town. Sansa’s rejection after that kiss had been a surprise. But now these letters, another surprise. Daenerys regretted her distance with Sansa on the previous day; she had been wary that Sansa intended to manipulate her feelings in some way, that she’d made an error in judgement and that Sansa was more cunning than previously thought. But there could be no doubt now; Sansa had proven herself and Daenerys wanted to make up for how she had acted. Mid-step, she turned and headed towards the kitchens.

*::::*

Sansa was in her bedchamber about to turn in for the night when she heard a light knock on the door. Her heart began racing as she quickly threw on her robe, recognizing the soft knock, knowing who it was. But she was also confused. Why would she come? Hadn’t the visit to Winter town the day before shown that their closeness was over?

She went to the door and opened it. It was Daenerys, as she expected, but she was now dressed in the dark blue northern dress she had Missandei purchase in Winter town. And her nightgown was in her hands.

“Your Grace…” Sansa said. _Her nightgown. She wants to stay the night._ Her heart pounded in her chest but she also felt apprehensive. She whispered, “I thought we agreed just friends.”

“We did,” answered Daenerys with an apologetic smile. “And I felt bad for how I was yesterday. If we’re friends, then I’d like to continue being friends.”

Daenerys gestured behind her and Grey Worm stepped forward holding a plate of lemon cakes. Sansa glanced at the plate and then looked back at Daenerys with a bright smile.

“That is a very delicious friendship offering, your Grace,” she said.

Daenerys chuckled in reply. “You said you would order them from the kitchen for me to try. Well you forgot. They do look and smell delicious. Shall we share them? May I come in?”

“Please,” answered Sansa, opening the door and letting Daenerys pass through.

She took the plate from Grey Worm and then closed the door. Sansa walked over to the table and put down the plate. When she turned to Daenerys, she allowed herself to admire how Daenerys looked in the dress.

“I prefer the grey one but the blue is beautiful, too,” said Sansa softly. Daenerys tried to hide the smile but Sansa could tell she liked the compliment. But then she looked nervous, still holding her nightgown.

“Lady Sansa… I feel I’ve been presumptuous about a second night together. I know that you spoke of more nights talking, suggesting I bring the nightgown… but that was before… if you would prefer that we not…”

Daenerys trailed off and Sansa was amused at how flustered she seemed. Something twisted low in Sansa’s belly, a reminder of their secretive glances in the Great Hall in the aftermath of their kiss. These nights could be their secret, too. _But it’s a terrible idea_, her mind warned.

“Are you sure you can resist the temptation, your Grace?” Sansa’s voice came out more seductively than she’d intended but she had no regrets when she saw Daenerys’s lips part in surprise and then curve into a sly smirk.

Walking closer to Sansa, Daenerys replied, “Can you?”

She looked confident and in control and, if not for the tight way Daenerys gripped her nightgown, Sansa wouldn’t have been able to tell just how much she wanted to stay.

“The screen is over there if you want privacy but I can avert my eyes just as easily,” said Sansa softly.

Their eyes locked, knowing that Sansa’s words ignored that the circumstances of their attraction meant that Daenerys should most definitely use the screen. And prudence absolutely demanded they not share a bed.

Then Daenerys quirked an eyebrow and replied, “You could… but I don’t mind if you don’t.”

Sansa’s breathing quickened as Daenerys threw the nightgown on the bed and reached up to begin undoing the ties on the shoulders of her dress. She was smiling but there was a faint air of challenge. Sansa tried to turn away but in the end she covered her interest by gesturing for Daenerys to turn around, and Sansa walked over to help her with the ties. When Daenerys turned back around to face her, she was barely holding the dress up and Sansa could tell she was not wearing a shift underneath. Sansa blinked a few times and stepped away, having second thoughts over this decision. Then Daenerys began laughing.

“I should’ve removed my boots first,” said Daenerys. Sansa smiled nervously in reply and went to sit down at the table, carefully keeping her eyes focused on the lemon cakes while Daenerys finished removing her clothes and then put on the nightgown.

Daenerys came over and sat at the table and then quickly grabbed a piece of lemon cake with her hand and plopped it into her mouth. Sansa laughed at the youthfulness of it and did the same. They both moaned in pleasure at the flavor and then laughed and blushed at their shared response.

“These are wonderful, Lady Sansa. I think we’ll finish the whole plate.”

“We better. I hate to see dessert wasted.”

They indeed finished all the cakes, laughing and joking all the while, and when they were done cleaning up the crumbs from their laps, Sansa stood up. She directed a look at the bed and turned back to Daenerys, who grinned and rose from her chair. Sansa knew it didn’t make sense, and it was not going to help in reuniting Jon with Daenerys, but she’d already given away so much. She’d given up the North, she had placed her trust in the Dragon Queen, and she had sacrificed her desires for the good of others. Could she not have this friendship for herself?

Daenerys got in the bed while Sansa went around blowing out some of the candles in the room, leaving the candle on the nightstand lit. She tended the hearth, making sure what was left of the burning logs would go out soon. Then she removed her robe and went to her side of the bed and got in.

In the dim light, she could see Daenerys’s small smile. They had not had any wine so there would be nothing to blame if something happened.

“Your friend Missandei will not be happy with us,” said Sansa.

“Did she say something to you?” Daenerys asked, frowning.

“She was just trying to protect you. This is irresponsible of us, after all.”

“We’ll be discreet.”

Maybe it was how low Daenerys’s voice was when she said that but it made Sansa’s toes curl.

Sansa reached a hand out and Daenerys quickly took it in hers.

“Thank you for those messages to the lords, Sansa,” whispered Daenerys.

“I will do everything I can to help you, Daenerys.”

Daenerys nodded in reply, sighed, and then closed her eyes. Sansa stared at her for a while, wondering if she should pull her hand away. She had thought they would talk into the night like they did the first night but perhaps Daenerys recognized the risks of getting too personal. Sansa waited but then gently pulled her hand away and closed her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So close and still so far. :)


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Daenerys woke to the sounds of sobbing and thrashing in the bed beside her. It was still night and for a moment she didn’t know where she was but then she remembered the lemon cakes and that she was in Sansa’s bed. She raised herself up on her left arm and reached her right hand for Sansa, gently grasping her shoulder.

“Sansa, shhh, it’s alright, you’re safe,” Daenerys whispered.

“No,” said Sansa in a muffled voice, “Don’t…. Don’t!!!” Sansa sat up suddenly and looked around. Daenerys sat up, too, and in the dim candlelight saw Sansa’s wild, tear-filled eyes. She looked at her without recognition and then broke down into sobs, raising up her knees and putting her head down against them. Daenerys didn’t know what to do and put a hand on her back but Sansa quickly turned and slapped her hand away.

“Don’t touch me!” snapped Sansa.

That’s when Sansa seemed to recognize her and the angry look in her eyes was replaced by remorse. She looked so lost, as if there was no comfort for her anywhere, and Daenerys opened her arms and Sansa threw herself into them, sobbing against her.

“I’m sorry, Daenerys,” muttered Sansa, between sobs. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you… I didn’t know… don’t leave… don’t leave me…”

“Shhh, it’s alright, I’m here. You’re safe. The nightmare is over,” said Daenerys soothingly, rubbing Sansa’s back, brushing back the strands of hair from Sansa’s face.

They lay down together, Daenerys still holding Sansa, Sansa’s head resting on her shoulder. She placed gentle kisses on the top of Sansa’s head and when Sansa looked up at her, Daenerys feathered small kisses along her forehead. Sansa’s eyes were still wet but she seemed clear-headed now, and very aware of how they were pressed together. Without warning, Sansa leaned up and pressed a gentle kiss on her mouth but before Daenerys could respond she pulled away and put her head back on her shoulder.

“Thank you, Daenerys,” whispered Sansa.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

Sansa shook her head and brought an arm around Daenerys’s midsection and held her tightly.

They stayed that way for a while and occasionally Daenerys would feel a silent sob against her. She felt helpless and unsure and didn’t know what she could do to bring Sansa out of this. Perhaps Sansa needed a distraction.

“You are a very strong woman, Sansa. All who know you admire you. I admire you. How you love and defend your family. How you stand up for the North. The first moment I saw you when I came to Winterfell, I knew Jon had not described you adequately. I knew I was looking at someone who should have been a queen.”

“What did he say?”

“He said you had suffered and had come out of it stronger. That you were suspicious of strangers and would not be happy he had bent the knee. But that was a given. He didn’t describe your heart, your intelligence, the way you carry yourself.”

“I was awful to you.”

“Yes, you were,” laughed Daenerys. “But I shouldn’t have let it bother me as much as it did. I should’ve expected it. I see now that you were right to be suspicious. You had fought so hard to get back to your home, your true home under Stark rule, had carefully pieced the North back together and declared your independence with Jon as your king, and before you all could settle in with your kingdom and what that meant, Jon bends the knee and gives it away. I’m surprised you were as polite as you were.”

“He was right to bend the knee, though,” said Sansa, looking up at her.

“I’m glad you finally think so,” Daenerys replied softly, returning Sansa’s look.

“I wouldn’t have done it.”

“No, you wouldn’t have. But that’s what I like about you, Sansa. Your stubbornness.”

“It gets me into trouble, though,” answered Sansa regretfully. Then she pulled out of Daenerys’s arms to lie back on her own pillow, wiping her eyes and cheeks. “Do you have any regrets, your Grace?”

Daenerys turned on her side and thought on Sansa’s question, noting Sansa’s return to using her title. Not having Sansa in her arms made her feel cold but she ignored her disappointment. The important thing was Sansa, who Daenerys thought looked sufficiently recovered from her nightmare yet still uneasy.

“I suppose it’s too easy to speak of the obvious one about trusting a witch to save Drogo. Of course I regret that. I have many regrets but a recent one is the Tarlys. After that talk with Sam, I feel a bit more at peace but it still remains. Do you think I did wrong? Do I deserve Sam’s forgiveness?” Daenerys was both interested and afraid of Sansa’s opinion.

“Randyll Tarly betrayed Lady Olenna, who declared for you.” Daenerys heard the harshness in Sansa’s voice and remembered that Sansa knew the older woman, had known her granddaughter.

“Was your friendship with Margaery Tyrell like ours?” she asked quietly. It was a forward question, and one she shouldn’t ask if she wanted to stay within their agreed terms of friendship, but she was curious. Daenerys knew that Sansa had said she’d never kissed a woman (which made the other day in Winter town the first time) or thought of being with a woman until her, but that didn’t mean there hadn’t been feelings that a young Sansa in King’s Landing didn’t recognize or tried to suppress.

Sansa’s eyes widened but instead of answering right away, she seemed thoughtful.

“No, not like ours,” Sansa answered with a knowing smile. “But I don’t think I ever considered it like that before. I suppose given what I know now of myself, perhaps something could’ve happened with Margaery if events had unfolded differently. There were looks and words that I didn’t fully understand. But I was young and naïve then and she had her eye on other goals. I did care for her, though. I miss her. I think you would’ve liked her.”

As Daenerys listened to Sansa speak, she liked how Sansa hadn’t tried to sidestep her question, instead answering with open acknowledgement of their attraction and how it revealed an aspect about herself that was not unwelcome. There was none of the discomfort and restraint Sansa had shown in Daenerys’s solar when she had said she’d only wanted to stay friends. And if Daenerys had felt a twinge of jealousy before at Sansa’s past with Margaery, it was now replaced by gratitude that there had been at least one friend who served as a bright spot in Sansa’s tortuous time in King’s Landing.

“I’m sure I would have. I did very much like her grandmother,” Daenerys replied sincerely. But then thoughts of Lady Olenna brought her mind back to the Tarlys and Daenerys frowned.

“If you’re thinking about the son Dickon, you gave him a choice, your Grace. It’s more than Cersei would’ve done. It is harsh but on the battlefield, those choices are made, too. Put down the sword and walk away or fight and potentially die. He fought against you and he wouldn’t kneel. I know that I have said disapproving things in the past but in truth, when I think about what I would’ve done, I cannot fault you completely.”

Daenerys nodded. She knew there were no easy answers but she was glad to hear that Sansa recognized those complexities.

“You are being too kind and have forgotten one important fact. They were prisoners. Care and proper treatment was my duty.”

“And your regret means you understand that and want to do better.”

Daenerys smiled at how Sansa tried to cast her in the best light. It felt good and she wanted to deserve it. She wanted to deserve her.

“And you, Lady Sansa? Your biggest regrets?”

“Going to King’s Landing and leaving Winterfell. Or not defending Arya against Joffrey on the way to King’s Landing. Take your pick,” answered Sansa quickly, and then she laughed but there was an edge to it that made Daenerys feel like that those weren’t the only regrets that came to her. She waited patiently to see if Sansa would tell her what was really on her mind.

“Few alive know this,” whispered Sansa, staring up at the ceiling.

“I swear never to reveal what you share with me, my lady,” answered Daenerys, wondering what it was that tore at Sansa’s heart so.

“In King’s Landing, my father realized we should leave and he made plans for us to do so. It meant I wouldn’t be marrying Joffrey and I was horrified. My stupid childhood had been filled with fantasies of knights and songs and I wanted to be queen; to give my king storybook princes and princesses. My father was going to take that dream away from me. I treated him horribly. I should’ve been a dutiful daughter and obeyed without question.”

Daenerys could hear the knot that had formed in Sansa’s throat and saw the tears falling from her eyes.

“He was eventually arrested and I thought I could trust her. I thought she was on my side and would help me. She was a beautiful queen and she had a beautiful son, and I was so blind.”

_Cersei_. Daenerys felt the rage smoldering within, wanting to burn to ash this evil woman that had helped to break Sansa Stark.

“She said if I wrote a letter to my brother Robb, denouncing my father as a traitor and asking that Robb bend the knee, that Joffrey would be merciful towards my father. But he executed him anyway and I had betrayed him, I had betrayed my father. I wish I could’ve seen then what I see now. Maybe we would’ve made it out. Maybe my father would still be alive. Maybe my whole family would be. I can’t help but to blame myself.”

“No, Lady Sansa. Not yours. You were a child.”

“A child who should have been loyal and obedient to her father.”

“An innocent child who was manipulated. Your father was an honorable man and was no match for the treachery in a royal court. He was betrayed. You were betrayed. It is not your fault.”

Sansa sobbed silently and Daenerys pulled her back into her arms. She comforted her with soothing words and soft caresses but kept her kisses away. That is not what Sansa needed. They fell asleep like that and when they awoke the next morning, neither expressed any regret for the way their bodies lay intertwined.

*::::*

In the morning, after Daenerys had left, Sansa dressed and sat at the chair by the window. The nightmare had been so vivid and she couldn’t shake those images, a warped version of what would’ve happened in Winter town had she not stopped it. The assailant, not Arya this time but some other ghoulish thing, had been relentless. She and Daenerys could not get away. She’d screamed and begged the thing not to do it but it’d grabbed Daenerys from her and violently stabbed her. Daenerys lay in a pool of blood and then the thing removed his face to reveal Joffrey but it was also Ramsay, who smiled at her before laying the knife at her feet, then walked behind her and grabbed her shoulders. There were shouts in the distance of victory for the North but Sansa began to sob, those hands digging into her back and forcing her down to kneel at Daenerys’s side. Sansa had cried for her to come back, that she was sorry, but she was gone. And still the thing or Ramsay or Joffrey pushed her down until she was lying in the blood. She was drowning now and she couldn’t break free. Drowning in the blood she’d spilled.

Sansa shook the memory of the dream and took several calming breaths but the guilt of her near-crime remained. _It’s done_, she told herself. _She’s alive and telling her now would risk the North’s position. _Sansa tried to focus on the rest of the night. Daenerys had comforted her, had been strong and soothing, and Sansa sank into her arms. They’d talked, confided in each other, and Sansa felt something akin to devotion. _This must be what her friend Missandei feels_. Because it couldn’t be anything else; attraction or not, Sansa couldn’t let it be anything else. A smile came to her face, remembering how they devoured the lemon cakes, and she sighed happily.

*::::*

They quickly settled into a routine of seeing each other during meals and Sansa’s daily responsibilities. Daenerys would deal with her own responsibilities but her free time became more enveloped with spending time with Sansa. Sansa made her a part of Stark meetings, took her on more tours of the keep, and gave her a more active role in meeting with petitioners. In those Stark meetings, Daenerys didn’t just listen, she participated and argued, and didn’t feel slighted when challenged or disagreed with. It felt like family. It felt like home, working with Sansa to improve Winterfell, discussing ways to ensure the northern houses stayed aligned. Daenerys felt useful and respected. She learned the layout of Winterfell as if she’d lived there all her life and it was beginning to feel like she had.

When most of the castle had retired, Daenerys would go to Sansa’s rooms for the night. Unlike that first night she’d spent in Sansa’s bed, the one before their kiss when she’d awoken in the morning in Sansa’s arms and pretended that they belonged to each other, it no longer felt like pretend. Daenerys enjoyed their conversations and their laughter. Missandei was her best friend and she loved her dearly but this was different. The intimacy with Sansa was more intense, more revealing, more everything. She wanted Sansa to know every part of her. There would be moments, too, when attraction threatened to overcome them. Usually, they would quickly look away or cover it up with laughter. But sometimes they would allow the heated looks to last for as long as possible until one of them would remember themselves. Those looks burned in ways that Daenerys had never experienced before and she would catch herself raising a hand to caress Sansa’s face before realizing what was happening and stopping herself. Sometimes it would be Sansa reaching for her and Sansa would either pull away with a laugh or she would settle for rubbing a thumb across Daenerys’s hand. Neither of them discussed that day in Winter town and in her solar when they were unrestrained, when their lips met in want and need. Daenerys thought of it often, though, whenever Sansa lay close to her and she could smell her hair. And that was the other thing that was making it more difficult to hold back, the way they would tangle up in each other in their sleep. It was frustrating but Daenerys also found it comforting. That at least in sleep, their bodies would do what their minds would not allow while awake.

She would walk back to her rooms before dawn, holding her tightly folded up nightgown under one arm, and ignore Missandei’s disapproving looks when she’d walked through the door. At least she didn’t try to talk Daenerys out of these night visits anymore. Instead she would update Daenerys on any castle news. Daenerys understood the risks involved, political and otherwise, and believed Sansa did, too. It was reckless and selfish and would likely end badly but when earning Sansa’s smiles felt this good, it was hard to care.

During their fifth night in a row together, they were under the covers and Sansa was holding Daenerys’s hand close to her chest, something she usually did now when she was ready for sleep.

“Thank you, Lady Sansa,” said Daenerys suddenly. Sansa’s eyes opened, now alert.

“For what, your Grace?”

“For trusting me. How did you know that you could? When did you know?”

Sansa smiled and then it was replaced by a more thoughtful expression. “I don’t know. It came on gradually. I suppose the first time I thought we could be friends was when I first came to you proposing these outings together. Do you remember that misunderstanding with the word ‘hand’?”

Daenerys laughed. “That early? You were so proud and reserved that day. It surprised me to see it melt away in laughter.”

“You surprised me every day, your Grace,” said Sansa softly.

“I wish everyone’s misconceptions of me and their prejudices could be melted away so easily. Sometimes I worry that I’ll never be able to fully win over the people of Westeros. You and the North have given me hope. But then I think about my deeper fears…”

“And what is the Mother of Dragons and Breaker of Chains afraid of?” asked Sansa with a smile.

“I’m afraid I’ll be a terrible ruler. That I’ll live up to my father’s reputation. That in the face of rejection and disagreement I will be a tyrant. You’ve seen my temper; it comes over me so powerfully. I have to think of my friends, the people who believe in me, to calm myself. It’s taken me a while but I accept now that House Targaryen is not above other Houses the way I once believed. We are conquerors. I am a conqueror. I will take the throne because I am strong enough to do it, and because Cersei must be stopped, but do I even deserve it? I have a birthright claim because my family created and held the throne for three hundred years but what is blood and birthright? Nobles and smallfolk alike tear at themselves and each other. There is no difference between them. It is not blood that makes someone better.”

Daenerys had gotten lost in her speech and didn’t notice that Sansa had sat up. When she stopped talking, she saw Sansa watching her with a strange expression on her face. Her heart pounded as she thought on these things she was revealing to Sansa.

“Lady Sansa, do you know what I wish sometimes, when I’m alone at night with my thoughts and fears? I wish I was at that house with the red door. Sometimes I don’t want the throne at all. I also think of my barren womb and am glad of it, relieved that House Targaryen would die and that there would be no more conquerors. I am not ashamed to be a Targaryen but I become afraid of the damage that could be done by the Targaryens after me. And like the flame of a candle, that thought extinguishes when I think of how much I want a babe of my own.”

Daenerys sat up, too, feeling restless and vulnerable. She’d just confessed a lack of confidence, even a lack of desire for the throne. What would Sansa think of her? Ignoring her misgivings, she continued. “There’s a madness in it, the need inside to continue the bloodline. To live on in our children. You feel that pressure, too. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell, right?

“Yes,” replied Sansa with a sigh. “For me it’s duty and responsibility, to see my pack live on, to make sure no one hurts us again. I don’t feel a pull to motherhood anymore but you’re right. That pressure to not fail your house, it’s very strong.”

“Jon’s existence makes it possible for House Targaryen to continue if I allow him to reveal the truth. But that opens up other troubles, doesn’t it? His claim and what others will do to manipulate him.”

“Jon is loyal to you,” said Sansa firmly.

“I know he is. I don’t question him. I question others. And still that wish for my house to die… how it competes with my wish for a child and to prove the worth of my family…”

“The witch could’ve been lying, your Grace.”

Daenerys laughed bitterly, knowing Jon had said something similar, but refusing to give herself that hope. She lay back down, pulling the covers up to her waist.

“Your thoughts and fears reveal a good heart, your Grace. Your claim isn’t what makes you the better candidate for the throne, it’s everything else. Yes, you are going to win it by battle, as many rulers of the past have; as any upstart who sought something better. But I see that you recognize that and I know you will rule with intelligence and grace and you will bring peace here. The people will see that.”

Sansa looked at her kindly and then lay down, bringing up the furs to her chest. Then Sansa turned on her side to face her, like she wanted to say something but was afraid. Daenerys turned on her side and reached out to hold Sansa’s hand.

“What is it?”

“It’s Jon,” Sansa answered, and the way she said it made Daenerys know what Sansa wanted to discuss.

“I don’t want to talk about him with you, Sansa.”

“Why?”

Daenerys squeezed her hand and said, “Not in your bed, not when we’re like this.”

“Bed is where we are and I’m your friend. Just listen.”

Daenerys paused and then nodded.

“I think you should worry about his claim…”

“Sansa…”

“You said you would listen. Jon, Arya, Bran, and I will not say anything. Sam is not family but I’m fairly certain he will keep silent. But we don’t know whether other witnesses will come forward, who was told, what evidence might turn up in the future. A truth like this, it could find its way out.”

“So what do you suggest?”

“Marriage.”

Daenerys tensed and then turned around, her back to Sansa.

“Daenerys… it will help neutralize the claim if you were to wed. Legitimize him as a Stark if you’re unwilling to tell the truth right now. Or ever. Plus, your being wed to a Stark will appease the North and help with the peace after Cersei is gone.”

“Sansa, you speak as if I haven’t thought of this.”

“I’m sure that you have. But hearing it from me is different, isn’t it?”

“He won’t. He doesn’t want…”

Sansa wrapped an arm around Daenerys and pressed her forehead to the back of her head. _Why is Sansa doing this to me? Doesn’t she know what her touch and these words are doing?_

“You still love him, don’t you?”

Daenerys didn’t answer but she stiffened. She didn’t know. She didn’t know if she did or didn’t anymore.

“It doesn’t bother me; you can tell me the truth. You do, don’t you?”

Daenerys still didn’t speak. She heard a kind of forced calmness in her tone, like Sansa wanted to believe it didn’t bother her. It meant Sansa was either lying to her or lying to herself.

“Daenerys, you think staying silent means you admit nothing but silence is also telling. You’ve risked your life for him. You lost a dragon in the process. That kind of feeling just doesn’t go away. You do love him. Think about what I said. It’s the best solution.”

“Why doesn’t it bother you, Sansa? When I think of your feelings for Tyrion, I feel…”

“Shhhh,” she replied, holding Daenerys tighter, causing Daenerys to bite back a scornful remark. Of course Sansa didn’t want to hear about what she felt for her. _Dutiful Sansa only thinks about the good of the realm._

“It doesn’t bother me because he’s my brother and I love him. I was a terrible sister growing up and I want to be a better sister to him now. You can make each other happy. Your safety, his, the two of you being happy, that’s what matters.”

Talk of Jon was upsetting her and Daenerys didn’t like how casually Sansa could speak of it, as if she didn’t care about her at all, as if she’d forgotten how their kisses made them feel.

“And would Tyrion make you happy? I’ve seen the way you look at each other. In the Great Hall. That day in the War Room when you gave us those messages. It is not as over between you as you’ve said.” Daenerys had tried not to sound bitter but the taste in the back of her mouth at Sansa’s apparent indifference had gotten to her. What Sansa said about Jon’s claim made sense but she began to wonder if there was another reason Sansa was pushing her towards Jon.

Sansa let go of Daenerys and she could hear Sansa turn onto her back.

Daenerys continued, “You told me that part of you loved him but that your night together felt like an ending. Do you still feel that way?”

She hated the jealous edge in her voice, the almost desperate need for Sansa to deny any feeling for Tyrion Lannister.

“I have a responsibility to bring heirs to Winterfell,” said Sansa simply, as if that answered Daenerys’s question. The silence between them was deafening and Daenerys wondered if she should follow up with a different question. Then Sansa said, “Tyrion is very accepting of people as they are. Maybe that’s the kind of marriage that would make me happy.”

Sansa’s pragmatism exasperated her. The advice about Jon. Her admission that Tyrion was still a marriage prospect. Daenerys turned around to face her and could see that Sansa looked uncomfortable yet resigned, as if confronting thoughts she found both distasteful and unavoidable. Anger flared up in her chest, and she hoped Sansa now realized why she didn’t want to discuss this in the first place. It brought the real world into their bed. _Sansa’s bed_, she had to correct herself.

“You also said you would refuse to consider him as long as he served me.”

That made Sansa smile and she turned to look at her. The anger faded away at that look and Daenerys couldn’t help the glance at her lips.

“Are you going to throw all my words back at me? One might think you’ve been hanging on everything I say,” Sansa said, a hint of mischief in her eyes.

The easiness returned at Sansa’s deflection and Daenerys smirked, wondering if she should let this go just as easily. She decided to see what a revealing answer would do.

“The ones that stung remain most vivid.”

A glint of remorse passed through Sansa’s eyes but the mischief was still there.

“I hope I’ve since kissed and made it better?”

Daenerys’s eyes widened. This was the first direct reference to their kiss since the day it happened. Sansa’s breathing became shallower, knowing she’d left an opening, and Daenerys couldn’t tell whether it was fear or eagerness on Sansa’s face.

_Perhaps more kisses are required for that particular sting_. That’s what Daenerys wanted to say but her own uncertainty about Sansa’s feelings got the better of her so she went with non-threatening acknowledgement.

“Much better.”

Sansa smiled and turned around. The signal that it was time for sleep. But Daenerys didn’t want to sleep just yet. She had another question and felt enough had been shared tonight that Sansa would be willing to answer.

“Why did you bare yourself to me that night?”

There was a long silence and Daenerys thought perhaps Sansa fell asleep. But then she spoke, at first quietly, and then in a stronger voice.

“Afterwards I thought it was because I wanted to shame you for your insult, or manipulate your sympathies, but that’s not what I was thinking when I stood up. The truth is I connected very strongly to that story you shared about your wedding night. I didn’t trust you back then but that connection told me you would understand and I never knew how much I needed that until that night. Words wouldn’t have been enough. I needed you to see me. And you did understand. I could feel it, in spite of my embarrassment over what I’d just done.”

Daenerys didn’t speak. But she placed her hand on Sansa’s back to reassure her that she was here and that Sansa didn’t need to be embarrassed about anything. When Sansa turned around, her expression was soft and grateful.

“My turn for a question,” said Sansa.

Daenerys nodded.

“Did you let me win that horse race?”

“No, I did not,” laughed Daenerys in reply. “Missandei asked me the same thing. Why would I want you to win? I had to win; it was a point of pride. That I didn’t only made me admire you more.”

Sansa smiled and there was a look in her eyes that told Daenerys she was thinking of what had happened after the race. But Daenerys let it go and continued with different topics.

So it went for a couple of more hours that night, using the time to ask about and share more personal details about themselves. It was as if they were trying to fit a lifetime of sharing into these nights. Daenerys spoke more of Drogo, about her brother, her horror at the death of a child by her dragons, her acceptance that her dragons did not necessarily make the world safer, and more about her experiences trying to be a good ruler in Meereen. Sansa listened and responded with honesty, sometimes in disagreement or with pointed questions meant to guide Daenerys’s thoughts to things she hadn’t considered. She never used Daenerys’s words as a means to put her down or criticize her without purpose. It was refreshing getting these viewpoints, her respect for Sansa allowed her to hear these things without feeling threatened, and Daenerys wanted more of them. Sansa would make a valuable advisor in King’s Landing. She began to wonder if she could convince her, telling herself that it had nothing to do with wanting more nights together like this.

*::::*

The following day Daenerys entered her rooms, holding a winter rose to her chest. She had just been in the glass gardens with Sansa and in the middle of an innocuous conversation about how the irrigation system worked, Sansa had cut the rose and handed it to her. No smile or knowing look and she had felt confused. But when she saw the book on the nightstand, she realized the deeper meaning involved and smiled. It was a book of northern stories and songs, a place to press her winter rose. Daenerys felt warmed and then surprisingly, and quite suddenly, sad and frustrated. She went to sit at her chair in front of the fire. It was burning low but the flames still calmed her and helped her think.

Drogo had been a sort of dependent love, someone she drew strength from as she learned to rely on her own strength. Jon was a flame to hold onto in the face of impending doom and the weight of the world on their shoulders. Her feelings for Sansa felt different. They felt stronger, more abiding. She hadn’t thought of the throne with any serious desire for it in days. And when she did, it was in a more resolute conviction to save the people from Cersei and less about taking back what she thought belonged to her. Sansa had put many things in a new perspective for her. But this closeness. This in between. It was more than friendship but it was not enough.

Missandei entered the room. Daenerys could hear her fussing around but then Missandei seemed to understand her more serious mood and came to sit with her by the fire.

“Is everything all right, Khaleesi?”

Daenerys looked at her with a frown but said nothing and then looked to the rose in her hand.

“A gift from Lady Stark?” Missandei asked. Daenerys nodded and closed her eyes.

After a long silence, Daenerys opened her eyes and took a deep breath.

“This closeness with Sansa hurts more than it should, Missandei. Sansa says I should marry Jon to help with the peace but then looks at me in desire and yet shies from my advances. It’s maddening,” Daenerys said.

“Have the two of you discussed what you are with each other?”

“No.”

Missandei nodded and then looked to the fire. Daenerys watched her, knowing she was organizing her thoughts, and she braced herself for whatever Missandei would say.

“I know you haven’t wanted my advice about this but it’s time to hear it now. I think you might consider putting distance between the two of you. It would’ve been different if it had just been a brief love affair without strong attachments. And if a non-physical love was what she wanted then she wouldn’t be so torn over her desires. She feels strongly for you, I do believe that, but her sense of duty seems to be stronger. And yet she won’t remove the temptation. So it falls to you to do so.”

Her words made sense but they didn’t make Daenerys feel better. The thought of losing Sansa caused her heart to squeeze in anguish.

“My Queen, we can’t stay here forever. Lady Sansa has her own responsibilities and future to think about, and you must defeat Cersei and take the throne. She is also right about the benefits of a union with Jon Snow. Both Tyrion and I have suggested it before, remember?”

“But I… Missandei, I think that I’m in…” Daenerys paused, fearful, worried that saying it out loud might set her on a path she shouldn’t tread.

Missandei reached for her hand. “I know,” she said gently. “It is never easy to put the good of others before yourself. You are the Queen. You will do what’s best for all of us.”

*::::*

That night, Daenerys went to Sansa’s chambers but was more quiet than usual. She could tell Sansa had expected a different kind of greeting after her gift of the book. Sansa inquired if the book was to her liking and Daenerys clutched Sansa’s hands, bringing them to her lips in a chaste kiss. She couldn’t speak but the smile that grew on Sansa’s face made her wonder just how strong Sansa’s feelings for her were. Daenerys could feel a confrontation coming but didn’t want to face it tonight. Instead she told Sansa she was tired and had a slight headache. After Daenerys had changed into her nightgown, avoiding any glances at Sansa to see if she was watching her, she got into the bed with Sansa. She quickly settled in and closed her eyes. Daenerys could feel Sansa’s gaze and could practically hear the whirl of thoughts in her mind but Sansa remained silent. The last thoughts Daenerys had before falling into a fitful sleep were on the soundness of Missandei’s advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some plot development, tender moments, and looming angst. On track to finish at 20 chapters. Hang in there, everyone.
> 
> For those questioning Dany’s thoughts on an extinct House Targaryen, I already said in the beginning that my story’s Dany and Sansa would not necessarily be true to the show’s characters. I want Dany to be more self-reflective, to recognize her failings and not be so focused on her victories and self-righteous destiny. There were glimpses in the show of Dany potentially learning this but I guess D&D were telling a story about her fall instead of her rise so it went a different way. But fuck D&D.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should be working but this fic keeps calling to me.

Chapter 16

Sansa enjoyed these days and nights with Daenerys more than she thought possible. Sometimes she wondered what it would be like to kiss again, what it would be like to do more than kiss in her bed. Blocking away the fear of that day in Winter town, Sansa would sometimes fantasize that she’d not stopped in the potter’s house. Or when Daenerys tried to pull her into her bedchamber after their second kiss, Sansa would imagine letting her. She imagined what she would do, tasting her, touching her the way she touched herself. Sometimes she would watch Daenerys sleep, the hunger for her so strong that she would be tempted to wake her and shower her with kisses. Instead of acting on these desires, they would hold hands, sometimes embrace in comfort, exchange heated looks that exhausted Sansa’s willpower, but there would be nothing further and Daenerys would dress and leave through her solar before dawn. Sansa had given instructions to the servants not to enter in the morning until she called for them but she still bolted the door during the night just in case their restraint failed them. She couldn’t decide whether or not she was disappointed that it didn’t.

In addition to the precautions taken with coming and leaving Sansa’s bedchamber, during the day they did their best to hide their newfound closeness. But Sansa wanted even more time with her so she told Jon she wanted Daenerys to be part of meetings with respect to the North, and to allow them to deal with petitioners on their own. It was something he hated anyway so he was glad to leave it to them. At the beginning she would ask for Daenerys’s opinions but Daenerys would leave the decision to her. But by the third day Sansa had encouraged her to take the lead and the petitioners had much praise for the thoughtfulness of their queen. Working together during the day, sharing a bed at night, Sansa could almost pretend her long dead dream of having what her parents had together was true. In the past, when Sansa thought of marrying she thought of securing Winterfell, enduring what she had to in order to produce heirs, and the necessity of it being someone at least tolerable to her. The last part is what had added to Tyrion’s appeal because he was more than tolerable. But what she hadn’t thought of was what it would be like to share a life, the miniscule details of the day to day, and the familiarity that comes from sharing a bedchamber with someone with whom she wanted to share everything.

These thoughts made Sansa both happy and afraid. Daenerys would be leaving very soon and this illusion they’d created would have to end. She should’ve anticipated how attached she would become, she should’ve recognized that allowing these nights together would only grow the emotional connection she felt, the melting down of the walls around her heart. Sansa didn’t just yearn for Daenerys’s touch, she yearned for all of her. And it was more terrifying than trusting Daenerys with the North had been.

Sansa was standing on the outer wall watching Daenerys in the distance in the soldier camps. Jon was updating her on the soldiers’ training and their readiness. Daenerys looked capable and strong as she dealt with her duties and Sansa felt confident in this queen she had chosen. She thought of the other night when she’d shown Daenerys a few sketches of different dragon designs she wanted to embroider on the dress. Daenerys liked the one-headed dragon best instead of her traditional three-headed sigil and had been very complimentary of Sansa’s drawing skills. The memory of it made her feel warm but then she remembered last night. Something had been bothering Daenerys but she called it a headache. Sansa wondered whether it had been the rose and book she’d given to her, whether referencing that flirtation had made Daenerys cross with her. Watching her now in the distance, Sansa wanted Daenerys to look in her direction, she wanted to see a smile meant for her alone, but she chastised herself for these foolish thoughts and pushed them away. But then Daenerys suddenly did and Sansa smiled to herself, marveling at how a look could make her feel such euphoria.

“Still in love, I see.”

Startled, she turned to see Arya watching her and then she looked around to make sure no one could hear them. But the soldiers were gone. They were alone.

Sansa stiffened and turned back to look at the camps, huffing at Arya’s accusation. Then Arya came to stand beside her watching Daenerys and Jon.

“Not that you asked me to but I wanted you to know that I’ve been spying on your queen, listening in on her private conversations. She’s plotting something.”

She turned to Arya, surprised. But before she could say anything, Arya spoke again. “There is a delay in the food shipment from Dragonstone. Tyrion convinced her it would be better they not take supplies from Dragonstone where her armies may need them, not until after the war is over. They may also need it as food rations for the people in King’s Landing after they take the city. So they are sending messages to Meereen to hasten the shipment from there. It should arrive within the next moon.”

“Oh,” said Sansa, relieved, turning back to the camps. “Understandable, of course. Anything else?”

“She speaks quite highly of you with her friend Missandei.” Sansa tried to suppress the blush and could feel Arya’s knowing gaze.

“Have you spoken with Jon yet?”

Arya gave her a look that said she wasn’t done teasing her but in the end she looked resigned to answer her question.

“Yes. He’s still struggling but I think he’s gotten past some of the shock and is beginning to recognize the prudence of the match. Keeping her safe seems to be the angle that works best in pushing him. Jon actually said political marriage.”

Sansa was surprised at that and turned a hard stare at Jon in the distance.

“He still loves her,” said Sansa, though there was a hint of doubt in her voice she didn’t like.

“I think so but it seems different. It doesn’t have the life it used to. Nothing like what I see in you nowadays.”

“Arya…” warned Sansa. She hated how Arya could get under her skin with her insinuations. Arya didn’t respond and Sansa silently thought about Jon. “He just needs more time but he’ll get there. The love will reassert itself, I’m sure of it. And if it doesn’t, at least he is finally recognizing the political necessity.”

The thought of it being a political match instead of a love match made Sansa feel guilty and uneasy but when she thought of what she’d had to endure with her own political marriages, she convinced herself that Jon would be lucky to have a woman like Daenerys. And Daenerys still harbored feelings for him so it would all work out in the end.

“I thought you were supposed to be redirecting her to him,” Arya said gently.

“I am. I’ve told her that it would be a good match and that it would neutralize his claim.”

“Those are words. But your actions speak otherwise. The gossip has begun among the castle servants.”

Sansa steeled herself, blush deep on her cheeks. “Is it… bad?”

“Not at all. It’s more astonishment than anything. They like her and they love you, and you’re smiling more, so it’s nothing mean-spirited,” Arya answered with a smile. Sansa nodded. She shouldn’t have been surprised but it still bothered her. It could eventually reach someone’s ears looking for a reason to cause trouble, such as the other northern lords. It could also reach Jon.

“So,” Arya stated loudly, holding a pause to an infuriating length before continuing, “How is she?”

“What do you mean?” Sansa asked but at Arya’s smirk she understood. “Arya! We haven’t… we don’t… it’s not like that.”

Instead of laughing and teasing her, Arya took her hands, her expression kind, which was not the sister she was used to and Sansa was a little unnerved.

“Sansa, why ever not? I see the two of you. I know you want to. She wants to as well.”

“We can’t. She’s the queen. There’s Jon. She’s leaving. My responsibilities here. Heirs for Winterfell, Arya.” Sansa was rambling, flustered by Arya’s question and her gentleness over it. She preferred teasing over these probing questions.

“I’m not talking about a long-term affair, Sansa. I’m talking about taking tenderness where we can get it before it’s too late. You have to make things happen for yourself. It’s not as if you have other prospects, I see how you’ve pushed the imp away from you at last.”

“Don’t talk about him that way,” hissed Sansa, her blush returning.

Arya’s eyes widened and then she laughed.

“So you do know what I mean. I’m impressed, Sansa,” said Arya. Then her eyes hardened and she grasped the hilt of her sword. “He was good to you, wasn’t he? Did he hurt you, is that why you’re not talking with him anymore?”

“He was gentle and kind, Arya. It was one night… before this,” Sansa said, gesturing between the two of them and Daenerys. “I stopped talking with him because he’s quite perceptive and would’ve figured the plan out. But speaking of men who should be good to us, I presume you have things in hand with Lord Gendry?”

Arya turned to her, surprised, and Sansa felt satisfied in her victory, for finally putting her sister off balance. It had taken some time but Sansa found the right servant and eventually learned of her sister’s love affair with the blacksmith-turned-lord. Her victory was short-lived, however, when Arya only nodded in reply and then looked out and regarded the queen. Sansa huffed lightly and turned to look at the queen, too, resigned for now at Arya’s silence over Gendry. She would get more out of her sister another time.

“You were right about her, Sansa, she has a good heart. And I know it’s complicated but you have to make up your mind. She’s leaving soon, you might not get another chance. Make something happen. If not, if you truly want her to reunite with Jon, then you need to stop misleading her.”

“I’m not misleading her.”

“Oh Sansa, you do realize she’s ready to burst, don’t you?” laughed Arya. “You are, too.”

Arya walked away, leaving Sansa to wonder if she was right. _Is that why Daenerys acted so strangely last night?_

*::::*

That afternoon, Sansa took Daenerys down to the lower levels of Winterfell to show her the hot springs. Daenerys listened excitedly as Sansa spoke of how the hot water is piped through the walls which helped to warm the castle. The passages down were narrow and dimly lit but Sansa was glad Daenerys didn’t seem afraid. The Unsullied soldier behind them stayed alert but kept his distance.

When they reached their destination, Sansa grasped the latch of the old door, opened it, and said, “You’ve told me how you enjoy a hot bath and I thought you would enjoy this. You’ve seen the pools in the Godswood but swimming there would be too public. No one comes down here anymore; several of these pools are accessible beneath Winterfell but this is the only one that isn’t scalding, although I suppose I needn’t have worried about you.”

Daenerys looked delighted as she entered the chamber. Sansa closed the door and looked around the room. It was about as large as the library, a small pool in the center with an old wood bench against the wall. Earlier she’d lit the wall sconces and placed fresh towel linens there in case Daenerys decided to get in. When Daenerys immediately began undressing, Sansa was glad for her forethought. She was wearing her dragon riding outfit so she worked on undoing the ties of her jacket. Sansa blushed when Daenerys removed it and she saw the tunic and pants underneath. She sat on the bench and removed her boots, then stood up to undo the ties of her pants. When she pulled them down, she removed her smallclothes as well and Sansa finally turned away, her blush deepening. She’d seen her undress several times in her bedchamber. It felt different down here by the hot spring.

“Aren’t you joining me?” asked Daenerys, placing her clothes on the bench.

“I haven’t been swimming in years, I barely remember how. There’s hardly a chance to do so in the North,” Sansa answered, still turned away.

“Come, come, Sansa. You can’t bring me all the way down here and not join me.”

Reluctantly, Sansa turned around and gasped when she saw a very naked Daenerys, who gazed at her as Sansa began to disrobe, placing her folded dress, stockings, and boots next to those of Daenerys. She left her shift on as she wasn’t as comfortable with nudity the way Daenerys was.

“Is there a step?” Daenerys asked hoarsely, turning away from Sansa and facing the pool.

“Yes, here, take my hand.” Daenerys took her hand and Sansa walked them to the edge of the pool where she knew there was a ledge below the water. She stepped down into the water and then helped Daenerys step in, now standing with water just above Sansa’s knees. Before Sansa could say more, Daenerys took the extra step to submerge into the pool.

“Oh, Sansa… this is glorious!” Daenerys exclaimed, slinking around the water.

“It’s a little hot for my tastes,” answered Sansa with a laugh. She loved seeing the childlike happiness on Daenerys’s face. She slipped down into a sitting position on the ledge, the water level now at her chest. The water was indeed hot, not enough to harm her, but she was soon sweating and feeling a little lightheaded.

“I wish you’d shown me this sooner, I’d have been here every day! A hot bath is lovely but this pool is absolute heaven.” As if to emphasize her point, Daenerys completely submerged before resurfacing with a devilish expression.

“Come over here with me.”

“I don’t think so, like I said, I barely know how.”

“I’ll be with you. You don’t have to be scared.”

Sansa splashed water in Daenerys’s direction and huffed but she soon found herself off the ledge and treading closer to Daenerys.

“See? Isn’t this divine?”

Laughing, Sansa cautiously swam around Daenerys. She did remember how to swim after all but the lack of practice meant she winded easily and soon she was back on the ledge, panting.

“I’m out of breath,” laughed Sansa.

“I can tell,” replied Daenerys. Those words hit Sansa low in her belly and she saw the dark expression on Daenerys’s face. But in the next moment there was only a smile, as if trying to convince herself to keep this play innocent.

But it wasn’t completely innocent. Sansa would steal looks at Daenerys’s wet skin and Sansa could no longer tell the difference between the heat from the pool and the heat in her body. Daenerys kept swimming around, not looking at all in her direction. The complete lack of eye contact was a sign by itself, of course. Sansa knew Daenerys wanted to look, her nonchalance a charade. The steam rose from the pool, the sweat and heavy air made Sansa’s head swim, her resistance dissolving in the heat.

Before she knew it, Daenerys was treading towards her, eyes dark again. When had she started looking at her? Sansa didn’t know but now eye contact was constant.

“Why did you bring me down here, Sansa?” Daenerys asked. She placed her hands on the ledge on either side of her legs, occasionally brushing up against her legs but still maintaining a respectful distance.

“I thought you would like it.”

“And do you like it?”

“Like what?”

“Seeing me, nude in the water?”

“Daenerys…” warned Sansa, mouth slightly open. Daenerys had pushed against her a bit more so that she was now in between her legs. All Sansa had to do was shift forward a bit more to feel her against her center. And how tempting that was.

“How are you feeling?” Daenerys asked this softly. She brought one hand up out of the water and looking straight into Sansa’s eyes, placed the palm flat against the center of her chest. Sansa should’ve pushed her away but it felt too good.

“As if I’ve had too much wine,” answered Sansa with a sigh. She brought one hand to Daenerys’s shoulder as Daenerys brought her other hand to grip the top edge of the pool behind Sansa’s head, which brought her body to hover closer over Sansa, their chests nearly touching. They were now in a compromising position. If anyone saw them, there would be no good excuse for the intimacy on display. Thankfully an Unsullied soldier was outside the door to the chamber. No one would see.

Daenerys seemed torn on where to take this. Sansa leaned her face forward just enough so that their noses occasionally touched. She would not be the one to ask but she knew in her heart that if Daenerys kissed her in that moment, she would give in.

“We should…” whispered Daenerys.

“Yes?” Sansa whispered in reply, her hand squeezing Daenerys’s shoulder gently. Bare, wet, hot. Her fingers began to move upwards towards Daenerys’s neck.

“We should get out of this pool. You’re looking faint.”

Daenerys had removed her hand from Sansa’s chest but they were still very much within kissing range and Sansa nearly closed the distance.

“You’re right,” she answered instead, pulling her hand off of Daenerys. She stood up slowly while Daenerys pushed herself back into the pool, treading water while staring up at Sansa. Instead of covering herself, Sansa just stood there, letting Daenerys see her, the water dripping off her, her hardened nipples pressing against her wet shift. Sansa could tell that Daenerys was aroused and it thrilled her to be able to have that effect on her. She turned around and stepped up and out of the pool, walking over to the towels and her clothes. Without looking back, she heard Daenerys get out of the pool and walk to her own clothes next to Sansa.

She turned so that her back was to Daenerys and removed the wet shift. Sansa didn’t know if Daenerys watched her and she didn’t want to know. Quickly toweling off, she grabbed her dress and pulled it over her head, covering her shivering body.

When she turned around she saw that Daenerys had already pulled on her pants and was currently pulling on her tunic. Her expression seemed mixed as well. Sansa saw disappointment but also anger.

“Daenerys… are we… will I see you tonight?” Sansa felt afraid. She knew Daenerys would be leaving soon but she didn’t want anything to change. Just this small bit of distance caused by Daenerys’s anger was enough to worry her.

Daenerys looked hard at Sansa but then softened and took her hands, returning Sansa’s tentative smile with a reassuring one. “As my lady wishes.”

*::::*

Daenerys spent the rest of the day feeling on edge. The encounter in the hot spring had shown a Sansa close to giving in to her desires and while that should have made Daenerys excited about tonight, instead it brought worry about what Sansa really wanted. Sansa had resisted every step of the way and it made Daenerys wonder whether Sansa nearly giving in was the result of accepting what she wanted or whether she had been worn down by Daenerys’s own ardor. Daenerys had lingered close against her in the water but Sansa waited for her to close the distance, waited for her to make that decision for them, and that wasn’t how she wanted Sansa. She wanted Sansa to be decisive, active in her choice, and for there to not be any room for regret.

Later that night, after most of the keep’s residents had retired for the night, Daenerys carried her nightgown and made her way to Sansa’s rooms. As usual she encountered no one but she was still ready with an excuse if she met anyone of note. She was nervous, unsure of how Sansa would be. There hadn’t been an argument but there was an uncomfortable tension down in the hot spring before they parted.

She knocked softly on Sansa’s bedchamber door and almost immediately it opened, Sansa smiling happily. Daenerys felt relieved by Sansa’s joy.

“I didn’t see you at dinner and I was worried that you might not come,” said Sansa.

Daenerys smiled, “I said that I would.”

She walked to a chair where she placed her nightgown and proceeded to undress. Sansa came over and helped her and Daenerys’s heartbeat quickened. When Sansa helped pull the nightgown over her head, Daenerys felt Sansa’s fingertips trail down the sides of her body. She had to bite back the gasp the sensation brought as she didn’t want to scare Sansa at how she was affected by her touch. She searched Sansa’s eyes but couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

“Do you mind if I undo your braids,” whispered Sansa.

“As long as I get to undo yours,” answered Daenerys. Sansa nodded and Daenerys sat down on the chair.

Daenerys had always found it comforting when Missandei undid her braids. The soft tugs of her hair lulled her into calmness and made her more ready for sleep. As Sansa did it, she felt that same sense of calm but she also felt Sansa stop at certain points, moving her fingers through her hair, occasionally brushing the nape of her neck with her fingertips. Their nights together were usually full of conversation but this time there was silence. It unnerved her.

When Daenerys felt the last braid unravel she thought Sansa would be done but she whispered for Daenerys not to move, went to her dressing table, and came back with a hairbrush. Sansa gently brushed Daenerys’s hair and she couldn’t help the arousal it caused. This act of grooming, Sansa serving her as if she were a handmaiden, it was erotic and at the same time so domestic, Daenerys could barely keep her breathing steady. She could pretend again that this was their bedchamber, and that Sansa was not a handmaiden but her lover.

After what seemed like hours, Sansa whispered, “I’m done.”

Daenerys turned around and stood up silently, gesturing for Sansa to sit. Sansa did not have as intricate an array of braids on her head but Daenerys still made sure to go slowly as she undid them, not even trying to keep her fingers from caressing Sansa’s scalp or rubbing Sansa’s neck and shoulders. From the sounds of Sansa’s breathing, she knew Sansa was feeling exactly what she had felt when she’d been under Sansa’s grooming care. Daenerys loved the feel of Sansa’s hair and wished they’d thought of this routine sooner. She took the hairbrush from Sansa’s hands and began brushing Sansa’s hair out. It was long and silky, getting softer with every brush stroke. When she was done she didn’t speak but Sansa turned and took the hairbrush out of her hands and wordlessly took it to her dressing table. When she turned around, she glanced at the bed and Daenerys understood the command.

After they’d gotten under the covers, they lay on their sides looking at each other. Sansa said, “Your hair is very beautiful. I enjoyed brushing it out.”

“And I enjoyed the act of your brushing my hair out. It was very relaxing,” Daenerys said dreamily.

“Daenerys…”

She interrupted, “You never call me Dany. Why?”

Sansa blinked several times, turned over onto her back, and then answered with a smile, “I think your name is beautiful. I enjoy the way it feels saying it. Dany is what he calls you. And I’m not him.” She looked at her shyly. “Does that make sense?”

“Perfect sense, Sansa. As I’ve said before, I enjoy the way your voice sounds when you say my name.”

They exchanged smiles and Daenerys continued, “What were you going to say when I interrupted?”

Sansa sighed. “I was going to apologize for earlier today. I could tell you weren’t happy with me at the hot spring.”

For several moments, Daenerys didn’t know how to respond. Sansa made it sound like she didn’t know what had caused Daenerys’s ill humor. This irritated her and she felt an urge to not let Sansa get away with vague apologies.

“What exactly did you do that requires an apology, Sansa?”

Sansa responded with a deep blush but then opened her mouth to speak.

“Wait,” said Daenerys, suddenly afraid of what ‘honest’ answer Sansa would choose. The one that would preserve this, whatever this was, or the one that would lay it bare, either one of which had the potential to slice through her heart. “Let’s just think of it the way we think of that moment in the snow; an encounter where we lost ourselves. No apologies necessary.”

“We lose ourselves quite frequently,” admitted Sansa.

Daenerys released a soft breath through her nose and then smiled. She had given Sansa a way to avoid this sort of frankness but Sansa persisted just the same. In truth, she did like it best when Sansa didn’t try to hide behind cautious phrases.

“Yes we do,” replied Daenerys.

Sansa moved closer and rested her head on Daenerys’s shoulder, her arm thrown over her abdomen. They often fell asleep like this and Daenerys knew not to mistake it for a romantic advance.

Daenerys wrapped her arms around Sansa and kissed the top of her head. They said nothing but the silence was heavy. Fear held her back from saying what she felt, fear of losing Sansa, of losing this friendship they’d built. She wondered if Sansa was thinking the same thing. Missandei’s advice kept swirling in her head. They held each other like that for a while and then Daenerys could hear Sansa’s breathing become deep and steady. She’d fallen asleep. Daenerys kissed her head one more time and then closed her eyes.

_::_

Having gotten used to waking up entangled with Sansa, Daenerys wasn’t surprised when her eyes opened to Sansa’s back, with her right arm draped over her and hand splayed just below Sansa’s breasts. The candle was still burning which meant it was not morning yet. Sansa’s sleep dress had lowered somewhat so that Daenerys’s lips were pressed against Sansa’s skin. Daenerys closed her eyes and gently hugged tighter but she would go no further. Then she felt Sansa tense slightly. The whole front of her body was pressed against Sansa from behind so she could tell that Sansa was awake. Daenerys waited for her to pull away but she didn’t, though neither did she speak.

The skin against Daenerys’s lips felt hot and moist from her breath. She wanted to lick the skin, taste it, bite it. But she didn’t have permission and Sansa still wasn’t speaking. Daenerys worried the spell would be broken and perhaps Sansa felt the same. However, too much time had gone by and they were both awake – it was time to remove her hand. As she began moving, Sansa’s right hand suddenly gripped her own, holding it tightly. Daenerys held her breath, wondering, hoping. Slowly, Sansa pulled her hand up to her breasts and that was the permission Daenerys needed. She tentatively kissed Sansa’s back, slowly extending her tongue and tracing small circles, before kissing again, her right hand gently caressing Sansa’s left breast before settling over her right, squeezing and pinching the hardened nipple. There was a faint saltiness to her skin but it was also sweet and Daenerys felt like she was in a delicious dream. The scars raised the skin at points but Daenerys nibbled along them, telling Sansa with her kisses that she was desirable, that she was beautiful. Sansa’s own shallow breaths, quick, gasping, were turning into light moans. Then Sansa squeezed her legs together slightly and Daenerys began moving her hand down but Sansa suddenly grabbed it.

Daenerys pressed her forehead against Sansa’s back in frustration and tried to pull her hand away to stop this whole thing but Sansa wouldn’t let go. Part of her wanted to yell at Sansa to make up her mind. The other part that wished to treasure Sansa tried to be patient and then wondered if Sansa would allow a different sort of experience.

“Touch yourself,” Daenerys suddenly commanded in a harsh whisper.

“What?” whispered Sansa, and Daenerys could feel Sansa trembling.

_Good, she knows exactly what I’m saying._

“Do it. Pretend it’s me. I won’t touch you, I promise,” Daenerys said, and she pulled her hand away and moved her head back so that her lips were no longer touching her. Then she moved her body back to give Sansa even more space.

For several excruciating moments, Daenerys thought Sansa would refuse but then she saw Sansa’s right arm dragging down. She wished she could see and wanted to tell Sansa to turn on her back but that might stop it altogether. Sansa’s arm began a slow repetitive motion and from her breathing, Daenerys knew it wouldn’t take Sansa very long.

“How am I touching you, Sansa?” Daenerys breathed.

There was a strangled sigh and then Sansa answered, “Softly.”

“Pull up your gown.” The heat she was feeling made Daenerys feel like she was going to catch fire. This was madness. But she’d never felt this kind of arousal just from watching someone pleasure themselves, just from speaking these words. Her center throbbed, and she had intended to do this in tandem with Sansa, but decided to ignore it as she didn’t want to miss one moment of Sansa’s pleasure.

Sansa obeyed, pulling up the skirt of her sleep dress, and then slipping her hand beneath her smallclothes.

“I’m touching you and you’re touching me. How are you touching me, Sansa?”

“Hard,” gasped Sansa. “Fast.”

Daenerys let out a soft groan, her hands longing to touch Sansa.

“Am I touching you fast now as well?”

“Yes… yes you are… it feels so good,” Sansa said in between gasps and moans.

“Gods, Sansa. I want my mouth on you. I want to taste you.”

“Daenerys...” moaned Sansa.

It was agony not being able to touch her, this woman, this goddess who was thinking of her, needing her, imagining her fingers. Daenerys wanted to hold her, feel the pleasure coursing through her body, claim Sansa for her own and not just for tonight but for all the nights, not letting anyone else touch her ever. She stared at Sansa and felt a pull in her heart that threatened to overwhelm her. Raising herself up on her left arm, Daenerys was able to get a somewhat better view of Sansa’s face. Her eyes were clenched tight, mouth slightly open, soft moans getting louder. Daenerys reached out a hand to touch her but she forced it back, grabbing her own breast instead. She squeezed herself hard and let out a soft moan of her own.

Soon Sansa turned onto her back seeming to no longer care that Daenerys could see, her eyes opening briefly to look at her, letting Daenerys know she wasn’t pretending she was alone. When her eyes darted to Daenerys’s chest, Daenerys quickly undid the ribbons on the opening of her nightgown, so that Sansa could look upon her. Taking her breast in hand, she caressed herself as Sansa eyed her hungrily.

Then Sansa closed her eyes again, licking her lips. Daenerys gazed upon Sansa in the candlelight, red hair splayed across the pillow, her right hand between her legs, her nightgown bunched up around her waist, her other hand pinching and kneading her breast, lifting her hips slightly to thrust against her hand. The sweat on her chest and on her brow. She was so beautiful and Daenerys ached for her.

“Come for me, Sansa,” she breathed.

Sansa’s eyes flew open again to look at her, her mouth open, and then she clenched them shut as she threw her left hand over her mouth to muffle her cries, her right hand stilling over her center.

Daenerys could stand it no longer and she moved closer to Sansa, leaning over her face. When Sansa opened her eyes again, trying to catch her breath, Daenerys was mere inches away and they stared into each other’s eyes. She had never seen Sansa look so vulnerable, so raw and exposed. In the briefest of moments, she saw desire, contentment, and uncertainty flit across her face. Her piercing eyes looked up at her as if pleading for mercy. Mercy from what, Daenerys didn’t know, but Sansa had only to ask and she would do anything. Anything. Words bubbled up from within her and, seeming to recognize the danger of what she might say, Sansa brought up her right hand to Daenerys’s lips. It silenced her words but at the contact Daenerys kissed Sansa’s fingers, licking them, and tasting Sansa’s pleasure. At first Sansa gasped and lightly moaned as she pressed her fingers harder against Daenerys’s lips but then Sansa’s eyes widened.

“Stop,” whispered Sansa.

She pulled away and Sansa sat up, breathing fast and trying to calm herself. Daenerys closed her eyes and tried to take deep breaths. It was several moments before Sansa turned around to face her but Daenerys didn’t want to look into those eyes. Those eyes that lusted for her but nothing more.

“I’m sorry,” said Sansa weakly.

“Don’t be,” she answered, still breathing deeply. “Don’t be. I’m sorry. I got caught up in what we were doing.”

“It shouldn’t have happened.”

Daenerys finally let her eyes meet those of Sansa.

“You liked it, though.”

Sansa turned away. After a long pause, she replied, “I did.”

That got Daenerys’s full attention. She wanted to talk about it. Talk about everything that was happening between them. But instead of further conversation, Sansa lay down and pulled the covers back over herself.

“Goodnight, your Grace.”

After a pause, Daenerys opened her mouth to wish her goodnight but then realized she couldn’t do this. Not after what just happened. She got out of the bed and removed her nightgown.

“What are you doing?” gasped Sansa, eyes opened wide at her nakedness.

“Leaving,” answered Daenerys, grabbing her clothes and dressing. “We can’t do this anymore, Sansa.”

Sansa looked like she would speak but she gave no answer. Daenerys dressed, pulled on her boots, then waited, eyes begging her to say something but her lips stayed tightly pressed together. It had become unbearable being this close to her, to let their desire go this far but no further. _It’s not just unbearable, it’s ridiculous._

Then Sansa threw off the covers and rushed out of bed.

“Everything was fine until you pushed tonight!”

“I didn’t start it! I was going to pull away but you held my hand and moved it to your breast. That’s what started it, Sansa.”

“But then I stopped your hand. And then you said… you told me to… why would you do that?”

“Because I want you! Because you took me to that damn hot spring today knowing that I wanted you. You’ve let me into your bed, knowing that I want you.”

Daenerys walked around the bed to stand before Sansa. Sansa straightened, trying to put on her mask, but Daenerys could see her words had affected her.

“And you want me, Sansa. You didn’t have to touch yourself but you did. But we can never be more, isn’t that right?”

Sansa’s tears were falling now and her eyes fell. Daenerys’s anguish increased but she pressed on.

“Then for our sanity, we cannot continue as we have been and pretend what we do together is innocent when it most certainly is not. You keep talking about our duties and responsibilities? Well, it’s time I get back to them. Goodnight, Lady Sansa.”

Not waiting for an answer, Daenerys swiftly turned around, grabbed her nightgown, and exited through the bedchamber door.

When Daenerys arrived at her bedchamber, she climbed into bed in a huff, fully clothed. After her frustration subsided, she felt the tears well up. It wasn’t just desire she felt now. Emotions bubbled underneath, emotions she’d been denying but were banging against her heart and mind, demanding to be acknowledged. But she couldn’t. The weight of responsibility was also making itself known. And more than that, she now believed that she’d allowed herself to get more caught up in this than Sansa. Sansa desired her but not enough to throw caution to the wind, not enough to get lost in these feelings the way Daenerys had become. Thoughts flew to Jon and how he had denied her in spite of his feelings. _These damn Starks_, she thought to herself angrily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst factor increasing and won’t let up for the duration. Hold on to yourselves.
> 
> Thanks for the comments. And thanks to everyone still following along on this journey with me. It’s my longest fic so far, and the first that actually began with a plan, instead of my tendency to expand on a one-shot. And speaking of plan, I miscounted before; there will actually be 21 chapters in total.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Daenerys was tired as she entered the War Room for the morning council meeting. It was time to start planning the departure from Winterfell. Even though she knew she hadn’t slept well, it still felt like she was seeing more clearly than she had been in days. Eager to get started, Daenerys wanted to be the first one in the room so she arrived early but Jon was already there and he was alone.

He smiled softly at her and Daenerys saw calmness about him.

Jon said, “I suppose I shouldn’t start without the others but I think you should know that we’ve gotten reports that some of the smallfolk have fled King’s Landing. With the food shortages there, and their fear of attack, it’s understandable. I’m surprised Cersei let them go but I don’t think her army is as devoted to her as she’d like.”

“Hmmm, I hope those people are safe and find shelter. It’s good news, though, yes? It means there will be less risk of innocent casualties.”

“Aye,” Jon replied, smiling gently. He walked over to her and reached for her hand.

Daenerys stared into his eyes and felt a confused warmth. _What is he…?_ Before she could say anything, or figure out what it was she was feeling, Sansa walked in. Sansa blushed furiously at seeing Daenerys then directed a sharp glance at her hand joined with Jon’s. Daenerys pulled her hand away quickly and hardened her features. Fortunately, Tyrion and the others walked in.

Over the last week Sansa’s presence had distracted her in these meetings. They would share looks and secret smirks but this time Daenerys found it easy to focus on the updates from Tyrion and Jon. Tyrion shared that the ravens had begun arriving with declarations of allegiance to their cause. She ignored how Tyrion directed a grateful look towards Sansa. Jon spoke of what was happening with the smallfolk in King’s Landing. Varys said that his birds shared whispers that boded well for open support for Daenerys after she’d taken the throne. Daenerys was pleased with all the news.

Then Tyrion reiterated the plan for taking King’s Landing. Daenerys, the dragons, and a small contingent would head to White Harbor to meet her armies that have been waiting and then sail for Dragonstone. Yara’s small fleet will likely arrive when they do. Jon would lead the northern armies, the forces from the Vale, and the rest of the remaining Unsullied and Dothraki down the King’s Road. Along the way, they would join with forces from the Riverlands, Edmure Tully having declared for Daenerys thanks to Sansa’s efforts. Daenerys would wait until Jon’s arrival and then they would coordinate the attack. It had been decided that a long siege would not be necessary. Daenerys and Jon would use the dragons and would stand down as soon as the city surrendered.

“You may want Jon to come along with you, your Grace,” interrupted Bran.

“And why is that?” asked Tyrion. They all looked at Bran expectantly.

“Rhaegal will need a rider to help fight off Euron Greyjoy’s ambush. He means to wait for you off Dragonstone. The ballistae have been mounted on his ships. He will try to take out your dragons.”

“Those bolts are strong enough to penetrate ships’ hulls. Our fleet will be ripped apart,” Daenerys muttered, looking at Jon.

Lord Royce spoke up. “My Queen, with your permission, I can lead the forces down the King’s Road instead of Lord Snow.”

Jon looked at him and exchanged a look with Daenerys. Weeks ago she would’ve shaken her head against this idea. But Sansa had helped her get to know Lord Royce, and she had received Lord Arryn’s declaration of support. She nodded in agreement.

“Very well, Lord Royce. Lord Snow will accompany me. He and I will discuss tactics on dealing with Euron’s ships,” conceded Daenerys. “Lord Brandon, can you find Yara Greyjoy’s ship and guide a raven there with a message for her? She needs to be warned.”

After that was settled, they discussed more mundane matters of supplies and set a timetable for departure. Jon put Sansa in charge of figuring out rations for the departing armies. Sansa also suggested a farewell feast the night before the northern armies began to depart. Daenerys and her contingent would depart several days after that. They all agreed some frivolity after these long days of waiting was needed. Daenerys looked at her while she was speaking and saw that Sansa had regained that icy regard she did so well. Remembering how Sansa looked when she fell apart made the heat grow within her again and she almost smiled at her but held back and turned back to Tyrion and Jon after they’d agreed to hold the feast. It was a good meeting and it grounded her. She’d been lost in a world with Sansa but the reality of her life reminded her of her responsibilities. King’s Landing awaited and Winterfell was not her home.

When the meeting was done, the others left chatting with each other but Daenerys saw that Sansa waited behind. For a moment, Daenerys almost stayed to talk with her. But she was still angry and needed more time to settle her thoughts, to find the strength to do what had to be done.

“Good day, Lady Sansa,” she said, and turned away and walked out of the room.

*::::*

Sansa had woken up earlier that morning feeling more alone than she had felt in a long time. The place next to her in bed was cold with only a lingering scent that hinted at Daenerys’s presence. She had no words for what happened the previous night. Thinking about it flustered her. When Daenerys had told her to touch herself, the desire she felt was hotter than it had ever been. She should’ve stopped. But Sansa had thought of Arya’s suggestion to make something happen, of how Daenerys had just touched her breasts, and her need was overwhelming. To do that in front of her… the way Daenerys had looked at her… Sansa felt so safe and desired, she would have never been able to do that in front of anyone else. It was only afterwards that the regret and guilt came. It would be easy to blame last night as the reason for the strain between them, but Sansa now realized it would’ve happened eventually. The frustration that Daenerys expressed had been there the last few days, as Arya had hinted.

Missandei had rebuffed her when she’d gone to Daenerys’s rooms, saying Daenerys was busy. She had tried to speak with her later at the council meeting but Daenerys only gave her hard looks and walked out of the room after Sansa had clearly implied she wished to speak afterwards.

Sansa now sat at the high table during the midday meal, wondering what else she could do to mend this fracture. She felt the loss sharply but she maintained her poise in the face of Daenerys’s coldness, who spent her time during the meal talking with Missandei. Daenerys’s words last night, the way she had snapped at her, Sansa kept going over it again and again. The morning meeting reminded her of Daenerys’s impending departure and she wanted to part on good terms, not like this.

She stared at her food and then heard a voice behind her that sent her heart soaring.

“Lady Sansa, will you come to my solar after the meal?”

Sansa turned and looked up. Daenerys still looked aloof and there was a soft sadness in her eyes.

“Yes, of course, your Grace. I’ll come straightaway.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you in a little while,” replied Daenerys, and she made her way out of the hall.

Hope began to creep into her heart. Sansa tried to convince herself that Daenerys’s coldness was just a show, to hide the true nature of their friendship. _But what is the true nature of it now?_ Sansa asked herself.

Not wanting to seem in a hurry, Sansa finished her food and chatted with Jon and then Brienne for a little while. Then she steadily walked out of the hall and made her way to Daenerys’s rooms.

*::::*

At Daenerys’s solar, it was uncomfortable and Sansa was worried. They both sat at the chairs in front of the hearth and Daenerys had poured them each a goblet of wine but there wasn’t much conversation, and what little of it there was remained forced.

“Jon seemed easy with me at the meeting this morning. I think he may be softening towards us,” Daenerys said suddenly after an extended silence.

Sansa took a small sip of her wine and made sure her voice stayed steady. “That’s good. As I said before, it’s a good match.”

Daenerys huffed slightly but she had no immediate reply.

After a while Daenerys said, “With Jon in King’s Landing, the choice for Wardeness of the North is you.”

It should’ve made Sansa smile but she only had thoughts of how their friendship seemed to be falling apart. And yet, she had to remain strong. She had pushed for this match and she needed to show support.

“You’ll be leaving Winterfell soon, your Grace. The whole of Westeros is relying on your good judgement. And I hope I can provide the North the same as Wardeness.”

“I understand, Lady Sansa,” said Daenerys stiffly, “You don’t have to keep reminding me of our duty.”

Sansa looked back into the fire, feeling Daenerys’s anger fill the room. She hoped to ease it with more familiar conversation.

“It’s been a while since we’ve gone to Winter town. Shall we go tomorrow? I’m sure Falon would love another visit.”

“I think I want to try visits without you as an escort, if you don’t mind. I want to see how I am treated by the residents when their favorite isn’t amongst them.”

“Of course. Um… yes, it’s a good idea, your Grace.” Sansa felt the hollow in her stomach grow larger. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go and she could almost predict Daenerys’s next words.

“As for other outings together, I need to begin planning for my departure. There’s still a war to fight. This has become a distraction I can no longer afford.”

Sansa stared at Daenerys, feeling stunned and insulted. “A distraction?”

Daenerys took another sip of her wine and hardened her expression even more.

“Your words, remember?” Daenerys said, and added in a chilling lilt, “_What’s happening between us is nothing. A lust-filled distraction, that’s all._ I was paying more attention to your expressions but I should have paid more heed to your words.”

And it was Sansa’s turn to feel the sting her words could impart.

“It began as a way to settle the question of the North, did it not? And isn’t it settled now, Lady Sansa? I’ve proven my worth, you’ve given your support, and I don’t see a reason to devote this much of my private time any longer.”

“I thought… I thought we were friends.” Sansa almost scoffed at herself after these words. They made her sound pathetic and she did not want that, not right now, not when Daenerys was clawing her heart out.

“I no longer think that’s possible. Not after last night.”

“Daenerys…” Sansa whispered, blushing, feeling uncomfortable with her reference to what occurred between them.

“Stop! For once, just be honest with yourself and with me,” Daenerys interrupted. Then she sighed. “How can you do it? How can you sit here and pretend that you didn’t pleasure yourself, thinking of me, while I watched? So close I could touch you. Go ahead and keep lying to yourself but I will not pretend I don’t know what you look like when you… I may as well have been the one...”

Daenerys shook her head, took a large gulp of her wine, and stood up and walked to place the goblet on the table. She stayed there, not turning to look back at Sansa. But when she spoke again, it was in a small, almost broken voice.

“And now you expect us to go back to the way things were? It’s become like torture to me. Isn’t it torture for you?”

“Yes,” breathed Sansa faintly, heart pounding and afraid. The thought of losing Daenerys became too much to bear.

Daenerys turned to look at her, seemingly surprised to hear Sansa admit to her own torment.

“But this is what you want. We can’t be more. Isn’t that right?”

Sansa didn’t answer. Fear ruled her. Fear of losing her. And also fear that having her would put too much at risk.

After several moments of silence, Daenerys walked back to sit in the chair and despite the closer proximity, Sansa felt the distance between them as if it were an ocean.

“I asked you here so that we could come to an understanding. It’s time we stop pretending that we can go back and forth without consequences. You’ve already explained how you feel; you wanted to be friends. And I wanted to respect that, I did. I tried not to pressure you into anything you did not want. I failed in that effort and I’m sorry. Now, I ask that you respect how I feel. I can’t be your friend while I feel this way. I must move forward and the future must be considered. Yours and mine. Like the advice you gave about Jon’s claim. It is looking like the preferable option.”

Sansa held herself like steel, using all her willpower not to throw herself at Daenerys. It wasn’t meant to be, she knew that. She had to stay strong for Jon, for her duty.

Daenerys sighed at Sansa’s continued silence and stood up. “I’ve taken up too much of your time, Lady Sansa. Thank you very much for these days together. I will remember them.”

Sansa rose, too, but she didn’t walk towards the door. She tried to hold back, tried not to open her mouth, but she was in shock. Daenerys wasn’t even going to try to maintain the friendship with her. She was ending it.

“You’re not even going to try? After everything I’ve done for you? Everything I’ve given you?” she whispered. Sansa flinched. Her words had been too raw, had betrayed too much of what she felt. Sansa looked away before she could see Daenerys’s response in her eyes.

She forced the ice to fill her heart, to be angry at Daenerys’s decision. Logically, Sansa knew it was for the best. But her anger wanted to place the blame on Daenerys. Sansa had made mistakes, of course she did, but Daenerys did much to encourage it. She encouraged it when she knew Sansa had been reluctant. Daenerys had teased, she had flirted, and she’d looked at her with those eyes that seemed to so easily see into her. Sansa had given her the North and now she was being discarded. Anger made her stand straighter, made her glare harsher and she looked into Daenerys’s eyes with an unforgiving coldness.

“Good day, your Grace,” Sansa said firmly. Daenerys’s lips parted, as if surprised Sansa wasn’t going to fight her more on this. She recovered quickly, though.

“Good day, Lady Sansa.”

And Sansa walked out.

That night, long after the castle’s residents had retired, Sansa waited for Daenerys. A part of her still hoped Daenerys would change her mind. And she waited, staring at the door, wishing with an indescribable intensity for her friend to come. If she did, Sansa would make it up to her. She would show Daenerys restraint, she would not flirt or touch intimately. She would show Daenerys a true friendship. But Daenerys did not come and Sansa went to sleep alone and heartbroken.

*::::*

The next few days were a blur. Arya had taken to sitting with her in her rooms, not really talking, just keeping company. She knew Sansa needed someone and thankfully Arya didn’t bring up Daenerys’s name. She was kept busy by all the extra work of planning for Daenerys’s departure. Food had to be scrounged up for the farewell feast, as well as provisions for the northern army’s march south. There wasn’t time for Sansa to dwell too much on sadness and feelings of longing.

Except at night. Sansa would lie in bed and find herself staring at the door, still hoping Daenerys would come. She had trouble sleeping without Daenerys next to her. She missed how Daenerys would hold her, how they would lace their fingers and stare at each other with barely contained desire. She wondered if Daenerys was awake, too, and thinking about her. In the morning, Sansa would wake up and wipe the night’s tears away before getting ready for the long day without her friend.

Daenerys did as she had said she would; she’d gone to Winter town without her. Sansa had watched her return from the balcony over the yard and saw the smiles between Daenerys and Missandei but when Daenerys noticed her, she pulled Missandei to walk away.

Sansa also saw Daenerys and Jon talking more. It wasn’t as relaxed as it had been before Jon learned of his parentage but she could see that Daenerys was being more patient with him. Sansa was glad for her brother, knowing it was only a matter of time before his wants outweighed his fears. After one particular exchange at a meal in the Great Hall, Jon had said something that made Daenerys chuckle and in her mirth, she looked to Sansa with a warm smile and Sansa returned it with equal warmth. For a moment, it had been perfect, like it was before. But then Daenerys’s smile fell. Sansa had kept staring at her, though. Daenerys looked away and tried to listen to Jon but still Sansa stared. She hadn’t cared if others noticed. Eventually a small blush grew over Daenerys’s neck. And Sansa had felt that triumph, seeing how she still held sway over Daenerys’s emotions. But Jon had turned to her, giving her a look, and quickly she excused herself and strode out of the hall before she did anything more humiliating like walk over to Daenerys and beg her for a meeting alone.

When Sansa wasn’t sitting with Arya, or busy with preparations, she’d taken to wandering the keep with only Brienne for company. After Ramsay, it had taken a while before she was comfortable again in her home but she did eventually find that comfort. But now Sansa felt angry at these walls. Their stone and silence only reminded her of her duty to not fail House Stark. Hours in the Godswood did not bring the peace she sought. Her future lay before her and instead of resignation, she recoiled. Daenerys had made her feel alive in ways she never thought possible, ways she thought had died with that stupid girl she had been in King’s Landing. She missed that feeling. She missed her friend.

*::::*

After that last talk with Sansa in her solar, Daenerys kept herself busy with departure preparations and short visits to Winter town. She’d bade a final farewell to little Falon and his mother and it broke her heart to leave them. She saw the North now as Sansa saw it, a world apart from the south. As much as she wanted to see Falon one day riding into King’s Landing demanding his promised dragon ride, she knew he was better off here and hoped time and maturity would sway him against the journey.

It wasn’t easy staying away from Sansa but she did the best she could. She was a queen after all, and as queen she’d had plenty of practice with remaining firm. But remaining firm did not dampen her need to keep track of Sansa. Daenerys would find herself looking for Sansa, not to talk with her, just to know where she was. Jon said his sisters were spending more time together and she nodded in understanding, knowing far more than he why Sansa would need someone close to her right now. When they passed each other or were in the same room together, Daenerys would gaze upon her unseen, turning away when Sansa would look towards her. Daenerys would wonder to herself if she’d been too hasty; if there had been another way to save her heart while maintaining some semblance of friendship. But any way she thought of only brought her back to her desire for Sansa, her intense hunger for her. Sansa didn’t feel the same way and she wouldn’t put herself in that position again if she could help it.

Except she could feel herself weakening. The day before the feast, Daenerys was in the yard and across it she saw Sansa with Missandei and a few of her Dothraki bloodriders and Unsullied. She didn’t know what was being discussed but the way Sansa looked as she was speaking then patiently waiting for Missandei to translate, and the respectful attitude of her men with the Lady of Winterfell, it all filled Daenerys with a sense of pride and belonging. Like her people had been fully accepted. Didn’t Sansa look so poised and commanding? Wasn’t she the most breathtaking woman she’d ever seen? Daenerys had to look away to calm the flush that came over her. In the secret recesses of her mind, her thoughts whispered, _Weren’t her lips the softest I’d ever tasted?_

*::::*

The night of the farewell feast lit up Winterfell with well-wishing and good humor from all in attendance. Even Sansa, as forlorn as she’d been over the last few days, felt its effects and tried to enjoy herself. That was made difficult whenever she’d glance over at Jon and Daenerys. He would speak intimately with her, a soft gaze on Daenerys’s face. Sansa didn’t know what was being said but she couldn’t stop her jealousy, despite knowing this was what she’d wanted them to do.

When the lull in drinking and song came, Jon gave a speech meant to inspire the North’s pledge to Daenerys and the victory they would soon have. There were cheers at the end but Sansa found it lacking. She felt an irresistible need to show him up, to draw Daenerys’s attention. Sansa stood and waited until most eyes were looking her way.

“I will not stand here for long as my brother has just spoken many inspiring words. But I realized that some of you may still have the wrong impression of my own thoughts over the war we’re fighting. And to that I wanted to say that none of us here in this room is alive without the help of her Grace.”

The room had a low buzz of sound before but now they were silent. Tyrion stared at her in wonderment.

“Yes, my sister, the Hero of Winterfell, killed the Night King but she would not have been able to do so had Daenerys Stormborn not delayed her quest for the throne to come North with my brother, bringing her armies, her dragons, and her dragonglass. If not for her, the dead would have quickly swarmed this castle, killing all within its walls before anyone even had a chance at killing the Night King. If not for her, all of the kingdoms of Westeros would be lost.”

Sansa looked around the room, making sure everyone heard and understood these words. She’d avoided looking at Daenerys, though. Sansa didn’t want anyone to see the feelings behind her words.

“She has defended us and bled for us at great cost. We owe her our lives. I owe her my life. And the North will remember what she’s done for us. I am proud to call her my friend and a friend of the North. To Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, our Queen, and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Long may she reign!”

“Long may she reign!” they all shouted in answer.

The cheers were loud and raucous. Most were raising their goblets and toasting Daenerys with sincere admiration on their faces. She couldn’t resist turning to smile at her and saw that Daenerys was smiling warmly at her in return. Sansa turned back to the hall and knew that whatever little reserve the northmen had left towards the Dragon Queen had dissolved with the open approval coming from their Lady.

Sansa turned to Jon and lowered herself to his ear and whispered, “I think a turn about the room with the queen would be a good idea.”

Jon nodded, stood up and offered his hand to Daenerys, which she took.

Sansa watched them walking around the Great Hall, making sure they talked to the few Lords and Ladies present, all of whom were very gracious to receive Daenerys’s attention. Daenerys looked comfortable mingling with all these grumpy northerners and Sansa was proud of her. Her good mood soured when she saw their familiarity increase with each other after joining Jon’s wildling friends. They laughed, Daenerys leaning her shoulder against his, Jon’s hand on her lower back. When another Lord would approach them for conversation, Jon led and participated, deferring to Daenerys where appropriate. He seemed a different man and Sansa saw the effort he was making to show his queen that he was still worthy of her attentions. When they pulled themselves away to talk alone, Sansa saw how bright Daenerys’s eyes were while she talked with Jon. She had to turn away when she saw him gently take hold of one of Daenerys’s hands. He was only following the advice Sansa had given him; she should’ve been relieved but the way Daenerys seemed to respond to him made her grab her goblet and down the rest of her wine. _They look perfect together_, she thought, feeling sorry for herself.

“Now, if I were a betting man, I’d say you weren’t happy with what looks to be reconciliation between our respective lieges.”

“Not now, Lord Tyrion,” sighed Sansa, upset with herself that she’d allowed her face to betray her thoughts. She tried to smooth her facial expression and turned to him politely.

“Come, my lady. We should drink and be merry. King’s Landing is calling and my sister will finally get her comeuppance.” Tyrion’s voice was unusually loud and she could see that he was well on his way to a proper drunk. It wasn’t a sight she enjoyed and she decided to tell him so.

“I would think it very unbecoming for the Queen’s Hand to drown himself in drink before embarking on such a serious endeavor.”

“Give me one good reason why I should put this flagon down, my lady.” Tyrion had raised it up, along with his goblet, making a show of pouring the rest of the contents into the goblet to the brim.

“There are two I can think of, my lord. One: your queen needs you to keep your wits about you. She is amongst friends here but one never knows. And two: I find your company much more enjoyable when the wine is kept to a minimum.”

At that, Tyrion gave a hearty laugh and allowed Sansa to take his goblet and put it down on the table. They smiled at each other and Tyrion took one of her hands and brought it to his lips. She felt a vague warmth come over her and wondered if perhaps Tyrion would be opposed to another night together. It wasn’t as if a certain woman was going to miss her company. Sansa looked up to find Daenerys and saw that she and Jon were sitting with Gendry, Davos, and Missandei. They didn’t need her. She felt so alone and couldn’t help imagining Jon and Daenerys reconciling in other ways. Turning back to Tyrion, she caught a knowing look but it had quickly changed to a mischievous smile. He was still holding her hand.

“Shall I take this to mean you are no longer angry that I asked your queen to keep you away from me?” Sansa asked.

“_Our_ queen had advised me not to take it personally so no, no longer angry,” he answered, his thumb drawing little circles on the back of her hand.

It felt good to feel on firm footing again. With Daenerys, she was always on guard. Not sure where her feelings would take her. With Tyrion, it was easy. Safe.

“Oh but I intended you to take it very personally, Lord Tyrion,” Sansa replied, teasing him as she brought her face closer to his. She was flirting and she didn’t care.

“I see, Lady Sansa. You meant to abuse my body in wickedly sinful ways, thanks by the way, and then tell our queen all about it in exchange for time away from me, is that it?” The boldness of his question made her blush. She was about to answer with some boldness of her own but they were interrupted by Daenerys.

“Lord Tyrion, Lady Sansa, are you enjoying yourselves this evening?” Daenerys asked, trying to look nonchalant but her pointed look at Sansa let on she was very bothered by her closeness to Tyrion.

Sansa slowly straightened in her seat while Tyrion took a slight step away from Sansa.

“Yes, your Grace,” Sansa answered curtly. “I see you and my brother have been enjoying yourselves as well.”

Daenerys nodded and then they all three fell into an uncomfortable silence. Sansa didn’t like the challenging glare Daenerys was giving her, the fire in her eyes that had imprinted itself onto Sansa’s heart. It was obvious she wanted Tyrion to leave them alone. Her jealousy was so obvious, Sansa was sure Tyrion could see it. And Sansa felt the fury within her grow. _She has no right to be jealous._

Leaning towards Tyrion’s ear, Sansa whispered softly so that only he could hear, “Come to my rooms later.”

Tyrion nodded at her and then bowed to Daenerys before walking away to join his brother and Brienne.

Now that they were relatively alone, Daenerys seemed to relax slightly and she smiled apologetically. “I wanted to thank you for your speech earlier, Lady Sansa. You have no idea how you’ve helped me this evening. And over the last weeks, too.” She looked as if she wanted to say more but there were too many people nearby.

Sansa wanted to share in Daenerys’s apparent joy but she couldn’t. The last several days apart were not so easily undone. What she wanted, she couldn’t have, and the two of them couldn’t keep ignoring this fact. Daenerys would be leaving soon, off to fight another war, risking her life and taking Jon with her, and Sansa felt bereft. She had no place with them in that future.

“You are too kind, your Grace,” she answered evenly, glancing towards the hall and noticing Jon looking at them. Turning back to Daenerys, Sansa stood up.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’m very tired. It’s been a long day. Goodnight, your Grace.” Without waiting for a reply, Sansa walked away and out of the hall.

*::::*

In her rooms, Sansa quickly changed into her sleep dress and waited for Tyrion. She couldn’t get images of Jon and Daenerys together out of her mind. Knowing what Daenerys looked like naked and aroused as she’d been at the hot spring didn’t help matters. Nor did the memory of what Daenerys felt like in her arms, her lips panting against her mouth, her tongue so soft and wet. Sansa hated feeling so conflicted, hated how this jealousy battled with the rational part of her mind that told her Daenerys belonged with Jon. She wanted a distraction and hoped that Tyrion would be able to provide that for her.

A short rap on the door alerted her to his presence at the door and she composed herself before letting him in and closing the door. Tyrion looked surprised to see her already in her sleep clothes and she smiled confidently.

“I wasn’t sure at first what you wanted when you invited me to your rooms, my lady. But I did hope,” Tyrion said with a smile.

“I don’t want conversation tonight, Tyrion. I just want to feel. Is that all right?”

His eyes widened at her words and Sansa could see that he looked concerned for her well-being. She didn’t feel herself and she could tell she wasn’t hiding it very well. Sansa decided to push through it and hoped Tyrion would follow.

Kneeling in front of him, she leaned forward to kiss him. His lips were reluctant at first and she pulled back slightly while at the same time worked on removing his gambeson. Tyrion looked into her eyes and then crashed his lips against hers and she brought her own hands to loosen the ties of her sleep dress. But then Sansa became distracted when he brought his lips to her neck. She tried to lose herself in his kiss but every time she closed her eyes she saw Daenerys. And when she opened her eyes, she felt the lump grow in her throat, knowing that she would never have Daenerys in this way. Sansa gasped for air and she wanted to cry when Tyrion took those gasps for pleasure, bringing his mouth back to hers. Her eyes shut tightly, grasping for the ties of his tunic, trying to rush through this so she could forget that it was Daenerys she wanted.

But then Tyrion stopped. And he slowly pulled away to stare at Sansa.

“That kiss wasn’t meant for me,” he said accusingly. He took a small step back, their hands still on each other’s shoulders but he firmly held her away from him, waiting for her response.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Tyrion,” she said, trying to pull him back towards her.

“Stop,” Tyrion said, disentangling himself and stepping out of her reach. “I’ve kissed enough women in my life to know when they’re thinking about someone else.”

Sansa could say nothing. She didn’t want to lie to Tyrion. But she could not admit how her feelings for Daenerys had changed from dislike to something else entirely. Tyrion’s face fell at her silence and he grabbed his gambeson angrily, walking to the door. He looked like he wanted to say something else but instead he just opened it. There stood Daenerys, wearing a robe over her nightgown, hand raised as if to knock, the surprise on her face at seeing the two of them quickly changing to anger and something more dangerous.

Tyrion, ever the quick one, said, “Ah, my beautiful rival. I see you’re prepared for bed. Come to join us? There will be no need to share, your Grace. She is all yours.”

He pushed his way out and left the two of them behind. Sansa realized she was still on her knees and quickly stood up.

“I see, Lady Sansa,” Daenerys said coldly. “I thought perhaps we could chat in your room like we used to, but I suppose Lord Tyrion gave you all that you needed.”

Daenerys looked as if she would yell at her but the quiet disappointment was even worse. Sansa’s guilt was on her face. There wasn’t anything she could say. It was how it looked: Tyrion in her rooms, her hair disheveled, her lips pink and swollen from kissing him, her sleep dress practically falling off her body.

“I never seem to understand you Starks.”

The anger on Daenerys’s face smoldered. Her eyes looked Sansa up and down and her hand was on the still open door. Sansa could see the indecision, the tension building between them. They were either going to fight or Daenerys was going to strip her naked. Her arousal burned for the latter. She could see it, too, in Daenerys’s eyes. They widened when Sansa moved her right hand to the top of her sleep dress, beginning to push it down off her shoulders. Sansa was tired of fighting her feelings.

Daenerys closed the door, walked to Sansa, and placed her left hand over Sansa’s right. She stared into her eyes and Sansa wanted to drown in the fire and need she saw burning there. But instead of pulling down, Daenerys pulled the sleep dress up and repositioned it properly on her shoulders. Sansa could feel Daenerys’s hot breath against her face as they looked at one another.

“Not like this, Sansa. Not while I can still smell him on you,” Daenerys whispered. Sansa’s eyes closed in shame. She felt like a fool for thinking throwing herself at Daenerys could make up for all the confused signals she’d been sending her these last weeks, as if Daenerys could just ignore that she’d come upon Tyrion in her rooms.

“Goodnight,” Daenerys said, her voice low with sadness, and left Sansa alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People don’t always make choices that reflect their true desires or communicate when they should. Hence all the angsty relationship stories.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More angst. Sorry! Don’t hate me.

Chapter 18

Daenerys should’ve gone straight back to her bedchamber but she was furious and hurt. She’d gone to talk to Sansa because of the way Sansa behaved during the feast. One moment she was singing her praises as if she was the closest thing to her heart and the next the huge rift between them returned, one which Sansa seemed intent on making larger. Daenerys knew she had only herself to blame for the way she’d pushed Sansa away. The pain of longing had become too great and she’d needed time to breathe. But now that she had, she knew she wanted her friend back, the closeness they’d built. Even if Sansa wouldn’t return her deeper affection, Daenerys convinced herself she could be happy with just friendship.

Seeing Tyrion in her bedchamber, however… that well-kissed look she had on her... that was bad enough. It became worse when Sansa had begun offering herself to her. The look in her eyes was almost like a challenge. The attraction between them was stronger than ever but to take Sansa on a dare wasn’t what she wanted. Hadn’t Sansa also told her that friends was all they could ever be? How could Sansa go from Tyrion to her in the same night? Her mind went over what she’d seen and it was obvious from how Tyrion looked and spoke, and how he had opened the door, that she didn’t interrupt them. It seemed to have ended before it really begun. But that didn’t make her feel better. Daenerys still wanted to yell at someone. She wanted to yell at Jon. If he’d never pushed her away this wouldn’t have happened, she wouldn’t be feeling this way. And now Jon wasn’t pushing her away. He had been different the last several days and was so different in the Great Hall; they had conversed easily and he’d been friendly and gracious with her, leading her around to talk to different people. It felt like he was hers again and he made an effort to be the connection to the North she’d needed him to be. Daenerys tightened her robe, gestured to Grey Worm to follow behind her, and went to Jon’s rooms.

When she had reached his bedchamber door, she almost knocked but decided to walk in unannounced. She found him sitting in a chair in front of the fire. He was still partially dressed, breeches and a tunic but barefoot, as if he’d been distracted during the act of getting ready for sleep and needed to think.

“Can’t sleep either?” Jon asked, pointing to the chair next to him. Daenerys hesitated but took a deep breath to calm her anger and went to sit next to him.

“She gave you a wonderful speech, didn’t she? I hope you thanked her.”

His tone was dry with a hint of bitterness and Daenerys was confused with his mood. When they were in the Great Hall together, he had been relaxed and friendly.

“Are you all right, Jon?”

He turned to look at her then. The fire in his eyes looked as if it were really there.

“At first I wasn’t sure but I knew when I saw how you looked at her during her speech.”

She blinked and was tempted to turn away but held steady, waiting. Daenerys wondered if he would explode in a jealous rage but he just took a deep breath and the fire went out of his eyes.

“I can’t blame you, really. She did everything for you that I should’ve done. When the Lords were cold to you, I should’ve helped bridge that divide. I should’ve been the one connecting you with my people. I should’ve helped build the alliances you needed.”

“Jon…” she tried.

“When I pushed you away, you needed a friend. I can only imagine how lonely you felt without an ally here. I should’ve been there for you. It should’ve been me.”

“Please…”

“Don’t, Dany,” he said coldly.

Daenerys turned away to look at the fire, letting the flames steel her features against him. She would not say anything to him about Sansa. She would not confirm anything because he had made it clear that his feelings for her had disgusted him.

Jon sighed, dropping his face into his hands.

“Do you even still love me?” he asked, his voice sounding small and muffled.

“You’re the one who rejected me, remember?” Daenerys responded, the anger and resentment in her voice unmistakable. _Is there still love? Can I love him again?_

Jon looked up at her and Daenerys turned to him. His eyes were wild with lust and possessiveness. Her heartbeat quickened. It had been too long and her frustrations over these several weeks needed release. He grabbed her hands and pulled her to her feet. With one arm wrapping around her waist he pulled her against him and kissed her.

The kiss was soft at first but then demanding and when she parted her lips for him, she felt the growl vibrate in his chest. Daenerys tried to push images of Sansa out of her mind. The way she looked at the hot spring below Winterfell, the desire she saw earlier tonight when Sansa had offered herself. She poured her rage and bitterness into this kiss, feeling Jon respond in kind. They had gotten to the point where he normally would’ve pulled away by now in disgust and she braced herself for it, opening her eyes to see his face. As he devoured her lips and then her neck, she could feel him tense and see his eyes close more tightly. _This is it, this is where he leaves me_.

Jon did pull away but only to remove his tunic. He roughly loosened the knot of her robe and yanked it off her. She was now in just her nightgown. Without thinking she slapped him. He needed to know how much he had hurt her with his previous rejections. He needed to know that what was happening now did not make up for any of it. The fire returned to his eyes and he pulled her against him once more. She bit his neck hard while he walked her back until she was sitting on the table that was next to her chair. Jon stared into her eyes for only a moment before he lifted up the skirts of her nightgown and then lifted her up against him, wrapping her legs around him.

Daenerys didn’t recognize him. Their previous couplings had been passionate but he had always been in awe of her, giving her the sense that he believed he didn’t deserve her. But now he was going to take her in raw anger, asserting himself in a way he’d never done with her before. There was still tenderness, though; she could see it in his eyes behind the fire. But even though she couldn’t stop the moans and whimpers escaping her now as he trailed kisses down her neck and to her chest, she was furious that it was her closeness with Sansa that seemed to push him to do this. Daenerys pushed against his chest and when he lifted his head, she slapped him again. In answer, he punished her lips and neck with harsher kisses.

She closed her eyes and let her head fall back but a flash of red-hair appeared behind her eyelids and she had to open them, refusing to let herself fuck the two of them in her mind. Daenerys’s anger flared again. She tried not to think of Sansa in Tyrion’s arms, her lips on his. She couldn’t punish Sansa right now but she could punish Jon. Daenerys would remind him of who he was; that he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t crossing that line that had disgusted him so much. She fisted her right hand in his hair, pulling his head back sharply, and whispered his true name against his lips, “Aegon Targaryen.”

Instead of pulling away from her, Jon’s lustful eyes darkened even more and he bit out, “Daenerys Targaryen.”

Hoping to get lost in him, she reached down to loosen the ties on his pants and he carried her over to the bed.

*::::*

Sansa sat silently on her bed for a long time before she allowed herself to think over what happened. Then she felt ashamed at how she had acted and pulled on her robe. She paced in her bedchamber for a while, arguing with herself. She didn’t know who she should apologize to first, Tyrion or Daenerys. Tyrion hadn’t deserved that, how she had tried to use him to soothe her own misery over someone else. And now she may have lost another friend.

In the end she found herself walking out in the corridor with thoughts of speaking with the queen, needing to speak with her before the night was done, hoping to salvage the last shreds of their friendship.

And then she stopped.

A feeling came over her and even though her pounding heart told her to go back and lock herself in her rooms until morning, she slowly made her way to Jon’s rooms.

When Sansa reached the corridor that held Jon’s rooms, her heart sank when she saw the form of Grey Worm standing outside Jon’s bedchamber door. Her mind yelled at her to turn back. Still she walked closer. Not even Grey Worm’s slight shake of his head could stop her. It was only when she heard the faint sounds coming from his rooms that Sansa stopped moving. The sting in her eyes made her want to scream but she bit the inside of her cheek instead, drawing blood. Sansa was gutted and promptly turned around, rushing away in jealousy and heartache.

*::::*

Lying on Jon’s bed, Daenerys’s head resting on his shoulder, both catching their breath, neither one of them said anything. Daenerys knew both were thinking about what this meant. She was confused. She thought reuniting with Jon would bring relief, that it would feel like all the pieces being put back into place. Instead she felt empty.

“You were different,” Jon said.

“So were you,” she replied, rising, feeling something unwelcome growing in the pit of her stomach. It was guilt. Had she betrayed Sansa?

_Of course not_, she thought. _She is not mine and I am not hers_. And yet… hadn’t she felt betrayed over finding Sansa with Tyrion?

“Why did you say that name?” Jon asked, distracting her from her thoughts. She looked at him.

“To remind you. To make sure you weren’t trying to prove something.”

Jon looked away and Daenerys knew she wasn’t far off the mark.

“Dany… I know that this doesn’t mean… just know that I want to try, however you want it to be. It would be a prudent match considering everything. And I don’t want anyone to ever hurt you because of me.”

Daenerys got out of the bed and began dressing. Jon sat up and pulled on his pants. When she had tied the knot of her robe, he stood up and walked over to her. He reached a hand to cup her cheek and she smiled sadly, regretting her own part in their troubles. She could’ve been more patient during his struggle with his identity. But she wasn’t. And now things were different.

“What we had before… it just doesn’t feel that way anymore and I need to think on how I feel about that,” Daenerys said softly.

“You mean how you feel about Sansa,” he stated without reproach and for that Daenerys was thankful.

“It’s over,” she whispered, for the first time confirming his suspicions out loud. Looking into his eyes, she saw a flash of something. Relief? Concern?

“You don’t sound so sure of that,” Jon answered. “Growing up a bastard in this castle did teach me a bit about how to stay silent and observe. I’ve watched the two of you.” Jon looked as if he wanted to turn away but he held her gaze.

“Jon,” she sighed. “I don’t know what to say.”

And she didn’t. He was offering everything she had wanted from him. Together, they would be an unstoppable force. Daenerys was wary, though. What just happened between them did not feel like goodbye but it didn’t feel like a beginning either. Neither of them used words of love. It was a release of anger and resentment. _But love could grow from this, could it not?_ she asked herself. She’d be a fool to throw it away for something that can never be. _It can never be_. The ache in her heart at that thought made her want to run to Sansa’s rooms but Jon’s offer reminded her of a Queen’s duty to the realm. 

Jon’s sad eyes seemed to understand her struggle.

“Take your time,” Jon said, walking her to the door.

Daenerys nodded and left the room, knowing she had a lot of thinking to do. But in the walk towards her bedchamber, she realized there wasn’t really much to think about. The sinking feeling in her stomach told her that she’d already made her choice. It had been rash and in anger and she should’ve stayed behind for a talk with Sansa, to find out why Tyrion had been there and why Sansa had used that moment to try to seduce her. The time for that talk was gone now. Or rather, that talk couldn’t change the fact that the alliance with Jon was now hers for the taking; the chance to make sure no one could use Jon against her. Who knows what could’ve happened with Sansa if their circumstances had been different, if she hadn’t been a queen and Sansa hadn’t been responsible for the future of Winterfell. But these were their fates and Daenerys felt those responsibilities like she hadn’t felt them in weeks. Even Sansa had urged duty over passion which was why they had resisted as much as they did. So many things about being with Sansa were wrong and many more things about being with Jon were right. There wasn’t really a choice to be made, not really. 

*::::*

The next morning, after seeing to the farewell of Lord Royce and the northern armies, and completely ignoring the presence of Jon and Daenerys as she did so, Sansa went to the Godswood. She wanted the peace of the wood to calm her, to take away the pain she felt in her heart. Sansa wanted that feeling of serenity, that knowledge that things were working out as they should.

It was very cold and Sansa was glad she had put on her heavy fur cloak. The morning air was peaceful. Sansa felt like she could breathe. But she was still troubled by last night’s events.

Then she heard soft footfalls and she knew she wasn’t alone. Sansa turned around to see Tyrion walking towards her. She gave a weak smile, feeling sorry over what she’d done to him.

Tyrion walked up to stand beside her and they each took in the silence of the wood for a spell before he turned to her to speak.

“You know, when I suggested you give her a chance, I was only thinking of political alliances. Had I known you had any inclinations towards your own sex, I would’ve advised you to stay far away from her, lest you succumb to that dreadful state the rest of us find ourselves in when it comes to the queen. Lord Varys had shared the rumors but I suppose I refused to believe it until last night.”

Sansa stared straight ahead. She did not want to tell him anything she wasn’t ready to admit to herself.

“What inspired your feelings towards her?” asked Sansa quietly. It was an unfair question but nothing was fair anymore and Sansa did not want the attention on herself.

He looked at her sadly, no doubt remembering that she had already accused him of loving Daenerys the morning after their night together. A look of resignation crossed Tyrion’s face.

“It began as admiration. She came from nothing, no power, sold off to a savage. And she achieved so much. Yes, she’s young and beautiful but the ideals were good. Some roughness in how to achieve them but that’s where capable advisors come in. If she’d been raised properly, ruling would come more naturally but she’s getting there. And her story reminded me of you back in King’s Landing, young and at the mercy of predators who sought to use you as a tool for their own gain. I’ve always had a soft spot for vulnerable women who grow to be stronger than everyone around them.”

Sansa nodded and again let the silence come between them. Worried that she’d ruined another friendship, she didn’t want to say anything more in case she hurt him further.

Tyrion broke the silence again. “I admit I thought things were heading in a different direction for us at one point. Wouldn’t you agree?”

She let the question hang in the air as she thought about it. At one point in time, Sansa had very seriously thought she could cultivate a love for him. It felt like a truth that she owed him so Sansa nodded.

“Well then, there you go. Do not feel bad for me, my lady. These things happen and our friendship will remain close regardless.”

“You are truly good, my lord,” Sansa replied, and she held out her hand. He took it and squeezed it gently, before winking at her and turning to walk away. Tyrion was indeed hurt but Sansa felt relieved that he found it within himself to not let their friendship be affected by the change in her feelings.

*::::*

It was perhaps not the smartest decision to go to the midday meal in the Great Hall but Sansa wasn’t thinking too clearly. The hall was mostly empty due to the departure of the northern armies. Her relief at not seeing Daenerys was also paired with disappointment. She was not a person who would normally seek out emotional pain but a part of her wanted to yell at Daenerys over what she had done. Sansa was so confused and hurt and wanted to fling her goblet across the hall.

Sansa’s scowl deepened when she saw Daenerys walk into the hall, avoiding eye contact. Missandei wasn’t with her and neither was Jon. The two of them at the high table in a mostly empty hall made the situation incredibly awkward.

_I should leave._

But Sansa didn’t stand up. Instead she slowly poked at her food, occasionally taking a bite, and pretended she was completely alone, letting her icy mask protect her from any looks Daenerys tried to direct her way. She could definitely feel her gaze but Sansa controlled her facial features, not letting Daenerys know she was thinking about her at all.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Daenerys stand and then pause as if deciding which direction to go. Instead of leaving, she walked towards Sansa. Sansa drew in a slow breath and turned to face her when Daenerys sat in Jon’s chair next to her.

“Lady Sansa, I apologize for coming to your rooms late last night. After the things I said the other day, it was unfair of me to have any expectations of... well… the speech you gave last night made me realize that I was perhaps too harsh. I was hoping we could make amends?”

“Was this what you were thinking about after leaving my rooms?” Sansa asked coldly. “Or was it after you sought satisfaction elsewhere?”

“Sansa…” Daenerys stammered, her eyes widening in recognition of what Sansa was referencing.

Sansa stood up. “Forgive my words, your Grace. I should not speak of what the queen does behind closed doors. Nor is it my intention to make a future sister of mine uncomfortable.”

Before she could walk away she felt Daenerys grab her wrist and Sansa glanced around quickly. There were a few stares directed their way; it would be an insult to the queen to pull away in public and she was angry at Daenerys for taking advantage of that fact. Sansa reluctantly sat back down in her chair.

“Nothing is settled,” Daenerys whispered. “And if it were, I wouldn’t officially announce a betrothal with Jon until after I defeat Cersei.”

The sting of tears came to Sansa’s eyes. Not an apology, no remorse, only a clarification. She glared at Daenerys as the tears welled. Sansa didn’t care if Daenerys saw them, didn’t care if she knew how hurt she felt. And she could see Daenerys try to blink back her own tears, which only made Sansa feel worse. Looking down towards her arm, she saw that Daenerys’s hand was still on her wrist and she let her tears fall as she took Daenerys’s hand in hers. Her heart began racing and Sansa closed her eyes, for a moment enjoying the attraction she still felt for this woman, the tenderness that made her want to lean forward towards her.

“It’s a good match, Daenerys. I look forward to counting you as my family.”

“Oh Sansa…” Daenerys sighed sadly. “I wish… I wish so many things were different…”

“But they’re not,” interrupted Sansa, squeezing Daenerys’s hand. She looked around, trying to find a way to escape, feeling like she was about to break down. Sansa looked back at Daenerys with urgency.

Daenerys suddenly pulled her to her feet.

“Come,” Daenerys whispered.

Sansa wiped her eyes and let Daenerys pull her out of the Great Hall. They walked with linked arms, to give the impression of warm friendship to those passersby. She felt dizzy, the air stifling, enjoying the feel of Daenerys’s warmth against her far too much. Daenerys seemed to feel the same for she was breathless, and she pulled her along even faster. And finally they were inside Daenerys’s solar and Sansa could breathe again.

Daenerys walked to the table and poured a little wine for herself, drinking it quickly. She looked like she was preparing to give an explanation but all Sansa could think about was that they were alone together, alone as they hadn’t been in days. Before Daenerys could speak, Sansa pulled her into a hug.

“I’m sorry,” sobbed Sansa into her neck. She didn’t really know which thing she was apologizing for; Tyrion or how she had mistreated Daenerys’s feelings. She just missed her friend, she missed her touch, she missed the way things were. Maybe she was just sorry for the state of things, for the way things had to be.

“No, I’m sorry,” Daenerys answered, tightly holding onto her, her tears falling hotly against Sansa’s cheek. “I’ve missed you, I’ve missed you so much.”

Sansa could feel Daenerys pressing kisses along her jawline and knew she should pull away but she didn’t. Then Daenerys’s hands were on her face and her mouth was on hers. Her aggressiveness took Sansa’s breath away. Sansa had led their prior kisses and this was different. Daenerys walked her back until Sansa felt herself pressed against a wall, Daenerys’s kisses messy and demanding. And it felt so good. Her lips were so soft, her arms were so strong, and Sansa wanted everything Daenerys could make her feel. But it was also painful. She tasted their tears and the remnants of wine Daenerys had just had as she braced herself to discuss Jon. It reminded her of what she couldn’t have, of how these feelings didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. She tried not to think that Jon had tasted these lips just hours ago.

Despite her jealousy, Sansa’s arousal increased. Daenerys moaned when Sansa let her hands move up to Daenerys’s chest, gently pressing against her breasts. Recklessness fueled Sansa’s kisses down Daenerys’s throat. She was panting, practically sobbing, none of this made sense and Sansa tried to center her mind, tried to think about what the worst consequence would be if she followed through with her kisses. But she didn’t care. _Because I…_ Sansa pulled back to look into her eyes. She felt it in her heart, felt everything she’d been denying.

_Because I…_

And Sansa’s heart ached that Daenerys’s future was with him and not with her.

She brought her hands to Daenerys’s neck and whispered into her mouth, “I heard you last night with him, that’s how I know. I wanted to find you, to apologize.” Sansa left the rest unsaid. It hurt too much to think of it.

Daenerys pulled back to look into her eyes. Tears were streaming down both their faces. Daenerys looked contrite but also resigned, her eyes telling Sansa she would not try to argue with her about this.

_I don’t have to push her to him, she’s already chosen him. _

Sansa felt her anger return in earnest. She knew being with Jon was what she’d told her to do, what she was pushing her to do right now, but that didn’t make it hurt any less; it didn’t make Daenerys’s actions any less confusing. Was Daenerys that angry with her after seeing her with Tyrion? Or had it been a prearranged assignation and that’s why she’d rejected Sansa? Why was she kissing her now if she was going to wed Jon?

She pushed past Daenerys, stepping towards the door, her back towards Daenerys. Sansa didn’t really want to know those answers. They didn’t matter. She was sure Daenerys had had similar questions about Sansa’s behavior with Tyrion and her hypocrisy was not lost on her. The only thing that mattered was making sure Daenerys stayed with Jon and away from her.

Daenerys didn’t say anything but Sansa heard her ragged breathing. How she longed for Daenerys to reach out for her instead, to try to convince her they could make it work. Her heart broke when she knew Daenerys wouldn’t. Sansa ran out of the room before she could crumble in front of her.

*::::*

Over the next few days, Sansa thought often of that last kiss. It had felt like goodbye, and she should let it be their goodbye, but it wasn’t how she wanted their final parting to be. Sansa wanted to part in friendship and with civil words. But any time she thought of going to Daenerys she didn’t trust herself to not pull Daenerys into an embrace, an embrace that led to more. So she avoided her, taking her meals in her rooms. Sansa tried not to dwell on how Daenerys didn’t send anyone to seek her out or seek her out on her own. The likely reason was that Sansa had finally succeeded in pushing her away. _Or she doesn’t care about me the way I do her._

Sansa stood on the wall overlooking the western side of Winterfell, towards the Wolfswood, remembering how much fun she’d had that day with Daenerys, how imposing her dragons had been. Sansa knew her attraction to her had existed before then but Daenerys had worked herself into Sansa’s heart that day without Sansa even realizing it. But she realized it now.

She now truly understood why Lyanna had run off with Rhaegar, why Robb had broken faith with the Freys to wed Talisa. A similar choice stood before her and it was taking every lesson in duty, every imagined path to destruction, to stop her from running to Daenerys and declaring it. If Sansa did, and they embarked on the ‘more’ Daenerys said she’d wanted, strife would likely arise against Daenerys amongst the northern lords. Rumors and suspicions about the true reason for Sansa’s change of heart in supporting the queen would undermine their loyalty to her and to Daenerys. Sansa had to keep the peace, she had to keep Daenerys safe.

_Daenerys_, her heart whispered. Tears welled in her eyes as Sansa let the depth of her feelings wash over her. Daenerys would be leaving tomorrow, their friendship was in ruins, and she could finally understand the songs but her heart would only be able to sing the ones of heartbreak and longing.

Her reverie was broken by Jon’s approach. He walked along the wall towards her and stood silently next to her. She blinked back her tears and waited. After a while, Sansa wondered if he meant to speak at all.

“Have the two of you settled the terms of your relationship yet?” Sansa asked, looking at him. He seemed thoughtful, like something was on his mind.

There was an awkward pause. “Not yet. She has much on her mind.” He looked at her but then looked away.

_He knows._

Sansa was about to reply but he spoke again.

“The truth is we haven’t been alone since the night of the farewell feast. We’ve spoken but not about us. It feels better than it was but it is different. I wouldn’t be surprised if she decided against it.”

This would have normally alarmed Sansa but she also knew what they sounded like in the throes of passion. _He and Daenerys will work it out without any interference on my part_, she thought bitterly.

Sansa looked around, the Wolfswood in the distance, the soldiers making their preparations. Winterfell would be quiet soon after they’ve all gone.

“Look at it, Jon. This is what’s important. Our family, Winterfell, the North. You will go south and keep us safe from there, and where you can keep her safe. I will stay and keep us safe from here. I will marry, have children. That is what I want.”

She could feel Jon look at her while she continued to look straight ahead.

“A woman in ten thousand,” he murmured under his breath.

“What was that?” she asked, turning to him. She’d heard but she didn’t understand.

Instead of repeating himself he said, “They should’ve chosen you instead of me.”

“And if they had, we’d all be dead,” chuckled Sansa. “Think back to when you first met her at Dragonstone. Now imagine me in your place. How would that have gone?”

He laughed but there was sadness in his eyes. Sansa didn’t want him to be sad for her.

She continued, “I wouldn’t have bent the knee to save lives. My pride, my stubbornness. She’s lucky to have you, someone who can make those compromises.”

“You’ve done what I wasn’t able to do, Sansa. The people have come around. I gave speeches railing against their thick heads but you were the bridge, you showed them how.”

“Sometimes I can be smart,” Sansa said with a knowing smirk.

“You’re the smartest person I know. Arya agrees.”

“I have the mind. But you have the heart.”

Jon gave her another long look and took her hand in his.

“You have the heart, too, Sansa.”

She could tell he was speaking of Daenerys again. Sansa looked down, feeling ashamed. She’d kissed the woman he loved, had tempted her away from him. He had to be upset at how, yet again, she had failed him as a sister.

“Are you angry with me?” she asked, needing to know he didn’t resent her.

Jon pulled her into a hug. A few tears fell from her eyes but she stayed silent.

“I’m not angry. I’ve thought a lot these last few days,” Jon whispered. “Never regret opening your heart. This life is full of shit and you’ve had more than your share. You deserve happiness, too.”

He hugged her tighter and then whispered something that made her heart stop. “It doesn’t have to be like this… you don’t have to let duty kill your love… I could step aside or you two could…”

“Thank you, Jon,” she interrupted, pulling back out of the hug, forcing a smile on her face. “It’s how it should be.”

He wiped the few tears from her cheek but he still looked upset.

“But…”

“No. It’s done. It’s what I want.” A truth and a lie but what else could Sansa say? She had to remain strong so that he could leave Winterfell without feeling like he’d wronged her.

“Be careful in the south, Jon. Stark men do not fare well there.”

Jon looked at her, unsure of himself. She knew he wanted to say more but her eyes urged him not to. Her heart couldn’t take it. _Let this go, Jon._

“I’m not a Stark,” he said finally, giving her a gentle smile.

Sansa smiled again and took his hand. “Yes, you are.”

*::::*

Night had fallen and Sansa almost went to the dinner meal in the Great Hall but at the last moment decided against it. Not going didn’t stop her feelings, however. In spite of her efforts to stay away, and all her stoic bravery in that conversation with Jon, her thoughts were still consumed with seeing Daenerys one more time alone to say goodbye. _She’s leaving tomorrow. What if Cersei wins? What if Daenerys dies thinking I hate her? What if she dies never knowing how I really felt?_ Then Sansa would remind herself that Daenerys’s relationship with Jon was more important, that Daenerys may have desired her but it was not to the extent Sansa felt. She would also remind herself that Jon was at least good; he’d stayed loyal all the way through to the end. Sansa had betrayed her and didn’t deserve her. She was mired in fear and confusion, and her inability to make a decision frustrated her.

It was the middle of the night when her resolve melted at last. Sansa hastily pulled on a robe over her nightgown, pushed aside her misgivings, and conveniently ignored that a more proper time would be after the morning meeting with Daenerys’s council. She was nervous as she traversed the corridors at night without an escort but she did not want anyone with her. When she finally arrived at Daenerys’s rooms, Grey Worm was standing guard and glanced at her. Before she could say anything he turned to the door and gave a knock. That’s when she noticed the light coming from the bottom of the door. Daenerys was awake. Sansa walked closer and waited for Daenerys to open the door. When she did, Sansa saw the surprised expression which slowly changed to a small smile. And that smile undid the lie Sansa had told herself about why she had come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter brought to you by copious amounts of Siouxsie & The Banshees and dark chocolate.
> 
> I’m flying through this now. Look for the next update by the end of the week.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Daenerys sat in front of the hearth. She knew she should sleep, to at least get some rest before leaving Winterfell the next day, but there were too many thoughts in her head. Sansa hadn’t come to any of the meals in the hall and Daenerys felt sure that Sansa hated her so she didn’t try to go see her in her rooms. But now that this was Daenerys’s last night in Winterfell, she realized she should have done just that, and that she wasted these days when she could’ve used them to shore up at least a cordial friendship. Part of her wanted to go to Sansa’s rooms now but it was the middle of the night. She was probably asleep. _She would probably close the door in my face._

That thought made her smile. Sansa Stark. So strong and obstinate. Beautiful and passionate. But then Daenerys’s smile fell as she remembered how hurt Sansa had looked the last time they were alone together. _It’s too late._

The knock on the door was a welcome interruption. Maybe it was Missandei who knew her queen needed company. Daenerys opened the door and was surprised to see Sansa, wearing a robe over her nightgown. Warmth filled Daenerys, happy to see her, thankful that Sansa didn’t hate her enough to let this distance between them stand. She hoped they would be able to put it all past them and begin anew.

Daenerys stepped back and let Sansa into her bedchamber. She saw Sansa nervously look around. This was the first time Sansa had been in her bedchamber while she’d been a guest here. Daenerys saw that she was playing with the rope of her robe and when Sansa caught Daenerys looking at it, she turned away. Daenerys wondered why she wasn’t speaking.

“I’m glad you came,” Daenerys said. “I didn’t want to leave things that way between us. About Jon…”

“Please, let’s not speak of him,” Sansa interrupted, still not looking at her. “You’re leaving. You two will wed. It is the best thing for you and the realm. But tonight… just for tonight…”

Sansa turned around and slowly undid the tie of her robe and removed it, letting it fall to the floor. Her gaze steady, Daenerys inhaled sharply when Sansa approached and began to untie the rope of her own robe. Daenerys grabbed her hands, stopping her, suddenly afraid of what this would mean. Of how her heart would be able to handle this. One night together, no more. Shouldn’t they speak first? Would Sansa regret it?

_Would I be able to walk away afterwards?_

Sansa patiently waited as Daenerys thought over the ramifications of this choice. There was desire in Sansa’s eyes but also understanding, as if Sansa knew they would likely not recover easily after this but she wanted to anyway. And so did Daenerys.

Daenerys slowly nodded and then allowed Sansa to finish removing her robe and then loosen the laces on the front of her nightgown. Once they were unlaced, Sansa’s hands stayed where they were, lightly gripping Daenerys’s nightgown. They stared at each other and Daenerys brought her hands to Sansa’s wrists, her eyes questioning, searching Sansa’s face to make sure this was what she wanted. Sansa’s eyes closed and she pulled Daenerys towards her. Daenerys leaned forward to press a soft kiss on her neck. The relieved gasp that Sansa made caused Daenerys to smile. She pulled back and watched Sansa open her eyes. Determination and lust came to life in those eyes and Daenerys felt arms wrap around her as Sansa pulled her into a desperate kiss, hungrier than the ones before. She rubbed her hands along Sansa’s back and down to her thighs and Daenerys smiled when she felt Sansa shudder against her. But when Sansa bit her lower lip, Daenerys was the one who trembled uncontrollably, the way she always did when Sansa did that. She couldn’t help it. The pain and pleasure from that sensation was always a surprise coming from Sansa and Daenerys wondered if Sansa would surprise her in other ways.

Moving to the bed, Daenerys sat on the edge while Sansa attacked her neck. Sansa was moving fast but with purpose and Daenerys was surprised at her level of comfort and confidence; whatever reservations she had detected in Sansa in the past likely had more to do with whether it was a good idea than with the act itself. Where Sansa lacked knowledge, she used her eyes and fingers to explore and learn Daenerys’s responses. And she was a fast learner. She felt Sansa’s hands trail up between her legs only to ghost away and before Daenerys knew it, one hand tangled in her hair, pulling her head back while Sansa trailed her other hand down her neck and over her breasts. Any thoughts she’d had that she would have to lead Sansa through her first time with a woman disappeared. Daenerys sighed in eager anticipation as Sansa pushed her to lie back against the bed, making sure Daenerys was comfortable on a pillow.

Daenerys gasped after Sansa bit her on her shoulder, the sudden tightness of her arousal making her pull Sansa to her. She felt a smile against her.

When Sansa pulled away, she must’ve seen the impressed look on Daenerys’s face because she said, “I may have thought on this once or twice,” and then continued kissing her neck.

“Do I match the fantasy?” breathed Daenerys, enjoying the neediness she felt in Sansa’s touches and kisses.

Sansa raised her head to look at Daenerys, and said with a smirk, “Do I?”

With her hands holding back Sansa’s hair, Daenerys said, “More…”, and then leaned up to kiss her lips lightly.

“You’re more, Sansa,” she whispered, and Sansa smiled before leaning down to kiss Daenerys again.

Sansa was lying next to her with one leg over Daenerys’s legs, her hand caressing Daenerys’s face and following a path down her body. Sansa’s kisses on her neck and upper chest became more urgent as she quickly reached for the bottom hem of Daenerys’s nightgown but Daenerys wasn’t done with her explorations of Sansa and wanted to slow down. Daenerys pulled Sansa on top of her and rolled them over so that she was now on top and settled between Sansa’s legs. Daenerys grabbed Sansa’s right hand with her left and held it above Sansa’s head against the bed, while using the fingertips of her right hand to trace a line along Sansa’s jaw before kissing Sansa until she was breathless and writhing beneath her. But instead of carrying on at that pace, she slowed again. She began unlacing the front of Sansa’s nightgown but didn’t open it yet. She wanted to wait until Sansa was begging.

“I’m not a delicate flower, Daenerys. I won’t break,” whispered Sansa.

Daenerys smiled lovingly. “I know, my sweet Sansa. I can see that you are not shy with these pleasures. And my restraint will soon falter. But I want to savor this. I want to savor you.”

She kissed Sansa’s lips then feathered light kisses down her neck and over her chest, ghosting lips over the hardened nipples through her nightgown, whispering words into Sansa’s body as she did so.

“Forcing myself to be slow and soft, holding myself back from ripping this nightgown off of you, it’s so deliciously painful.”

Daenerys could see how her words were having the desired effect on Sansa. She was hanging on her every word, lips parted, eyes dark with desire. Letting go of her hand, Daenerys rose up onto her knees to look at Sansa, who suddenly pulled open the front of her nightgown, baring her breasts. Daenerys pressed forward with hands on either side of Sansa’s face, hovering over her.

“That wasn’t fair, Sansa,” Daenerys scolded, her voice dripping with lust, taking in Sansa’s seductive smirk, lowering her eyes to Sansa’s breasts. She raised her eyes back to Sansa’s and pressed a hand on her breast, reveling in how Sansa’s eyes fluttered closed and in the softness of her skin.

Daenerys lay against her and brought her mouth to Sansa’s breast. As soon as her lips pulled on a nipple, Sansa’s hands gripped her head and arched into her. Daenerys growled and bit down. Sansa’s noises were making it hard to think and Daenerys rose up again to kiss her. Deep, wanton kisses and when Daenerys moved her pelvis against her, Sansa broke away with a loud moan. Her eyes were pleading with Daenerys for more and Daenerys could barely breathe. She could see something in Sansa’s eyes that Daenerys thought only she felt. It was a look that was going to make walking away from this even harder and Daenerys hid her face in Sansa’s neck as she thrusted gently against Sansa’s warmth, afraid to let herself believe.

But Sansa wouldn’t let her hide. Her fingers dug into her back, her sighs called to her and Daenerys had to feel those sighs on her lips. It was as if Sansa was thinking the same thing and she grabbed Daenerys’s hair and pulled her to her mouth, dropping one of her hands to grip and squeeze at Daenerys’s breast. Daenerys surrendered into that kiss, not caring that later Sansa would cut her to pieces with a final farewell. Right now, Sansa was hers and she was Sansa’s.

When Daenerys noticed the tears in Sansa’s eyes, she stilled.

“We can stop if you want to,” Daenerys whispered.

“It’s not that, I just… I didn’t know it could hurt so much… what this feels like, it’s everything.”

Daenerys understood. Because she felt that pain, too. Her heart was bursting from everything she was feeling.

Sansa leaned up and pulled Daenerys into another kiss, rolling them over until Sansa was straddling her, her chest pressing down against her. This time their kiss was full of the tenderness and longing they’d felt for each other these last weeks. The passion was still there, the heat a tremendous blaze, but emotions were now coming to the surface. This was more than lust. Daenerys could feel it in Sansa’s kiss.

“I’m going to miss you, Daenerys,” Sansa whispered against her mouth.

“I will miss you, too… I don’t want to leave…” Daenerys said between kisses. Sansa raised herself up until she was sitting and Daenerys was reminded of that time in the snow, a winter goddess straddling her in desire. She sat up to press kisses down Sansa’s neck and to her breast, nibbling and biting, treasuring every gasp and whimper from Sansa.

“Promise me you’ll be safe, promise me nothing will happen to you,” gasped Sansa, rolling her hips against her.

“Nothing will happen to me,” answered Daenerys, suckling Sansa’s nipple into her mouth as her hands sought the bottom hem of Sansa’s nightgown, raising it up so that she could caress bare thighs. She wanted to feel her wetness, to see Sansa fall apart above her, but she held off, wanting to commit this image of Sansa to memory. Sansa arched her back into her and ground herself down, and Daenerys’s hands quickly wrapped around Sansa’s waist, pulling her closer, helping to increase the pressure of their bodies together. She looked up at Sansa, her head leaning back, her hair a fiery waterfall in her fingers, and she whispered, “I’ll come back for you.”

“What… what did you say?” Sansa asked, out of breath, looking down at her in confusion.

Daenerys stared up at Sansa. Beautiful, breathtaking Sansa. _My Sansa_. She didn’t want to leave her behind.

“Sansa, come with me. After the war, come to King’s Landing. You could be my special counsel or lady in waiting. Bran can take over here, he’s more capable than he lets on. We can be together.”

“Daenerys… I thought you understood,” Sansa said and the way she said it made Daenerys’s heart stop.

Sansa closed her eyes for a moment, then she pulled her nightgown back up over her shoulders, covering her chest, and got off Daenerys, sitting back up against the headboard of the bed, not looking at her.

“I can’t live in King’s Landing.”

Fear of losing Sansa gripped her heart. Daenerys turned to her, sitting on her legs in the center of the bed.

“Yes you can. It’ll be different. I know you have harsh memories of that place…”

“I can’t do that to Jon. The scandal.”

“Then I end things with him. And you come with me.” Daenerys hadn’t even paused to think before replying but she didn’t care. Nothing mattered except having Sansa at her side.

Sansa looked upset. It was not the response Daenerys wanted but she couldn’t stop herself now. One night would never be enough. She had to convince her.

In a steadier voice than she looked, Sansa said, “The rumors about us will be endless. The North will think you’ve corrupted me. Strife will rise against you.”

“I don’t care. I need you. Jon can return to Winterfell as Warden. He can keep the peace here in the North.”

Sansa shook her head. “He would have difficulty regaining the lords’ respect on his own. Peace would not be easy and you would always be dealing with those troubles. And you can’t forget about the dangers of his claim.”

“Sansa…”

It was like the ‘game’ in the Godswood again and Daenerys could not find the right counterpoints to Sansa’s reasoning.

“And I would never be happy living in King’s Landing. Listen to me, our responsibility is to our people. Your marriage to Jon will bring peace to the seven kingdoms. You need a tie to the North in King’s Landing and that can’t be me for I must stay here. I must marry and produce heirs so that Winterfell is secure for my family.”

Sansa spoke soothingly and convincingly but it only made Daenerys more desperate. If not King’s Landing, then she would go to Winterfell.

“I could come here whenever I can…”

“Daenerys,” whispered Sansa, looking down. “Please…”

Daenerys’s heart was pounding; she could hold it in no longer. Sansa felt the same, she had to.

“But I love you, Sansa.”

At those words, Sansa looked up and she saw Sansa’s eyes brighten, and for the briefest of moments Daenerys saw her love reflected there. But then tears came back to Sansa’s eyes. Sansa looked away as if in shame. _Why is she ashamed? Or is it guilt?_

“You don’t know what you’re saying…”

Daenerys grabbed Sansa’s hands and pulled her forward so that they were both on their knees on the bed. She looked into those eyes that avoided her gaze and let her fingers brush back red hair out of Sansa’s face and wipe the tears from her cheeks.

“I know exactly what I’m saying, Sansa,” Daenerys whispered.

Then she leaned forward to press the gentlest of kisses on Sansa’s mouth, wistful and longing. She lingered there until Sansa returned it. The heat grew again between them and the emotion she felt in Sansa’s lips made Daenerys’s heart spill over with her love. This was right. Sansa was the one she wanted. Only her, for the rest of their lives.

“I love you. For so long I’ve loved you. Be with me, Sansa.”

Sansa groaned and roughly pulled away. The tears were falling freely now as Sansa sat back on her legs. Daenerys did the same though she wouldn’t let go of Sansa’s hands.

“If you knew the things I’ve done... you wouldn’t… I’ve lied to you.”

“Do you mean the start of this friendship? I knew about that from the very beginning. But it became real. That’s all that matters.”

“No, not just that.” And the way she said it, along with the wild look which came to Sansa’s eyes, caused a nervousness to grow within Daenerys. Daenerys squeezed Sansa’s hands tightly, waiting, suddenly aware this was more than just rejection.

“Do you remember the first dinner in your solar? When you asked if I intended to harm you?” Sansa whispered.

The bottom dropped out from under Daenerys. She stared at Sansa in disbelief and then shock, dropping Sansa’s hands. Sansa looked back but it wasn’t defiance on her face, it was sorrow and remorse.

“No. I… I don’t believe you,” said Daenerys in a small voice. She hated that voice. Anger grew within her. Then more loudly she said, “I don’t believe you.”

Daenerys shook her head and grabbed Sansa’s shoulders. She pressed her forehead hard against Sansa’s, turning her head slowly in a side to side motion, refusing to believe it.

“No,” she said through gritted teeth and clenched eyes. Sansa’s hands came to her cheeks and Daenerys welcomed them, praying that Sansa would take it back, that this would all be a cruel lie. But when Sansa pressed a kiss to her lips and whispered ‘I’m sorry’ before pulling away and moving to sit on the side of the bed, Daenerys felt the truth like a blow to her stomach. She stayed sitting on her legs in the center of the bed for several moments before letting out a guttural cry of despair, so loud it brought Grey Worm into the room.

“Get out and make sure no one enters!” yelled Daenerys in high Valyrian. He nodded in obedience and shut the door behind him. She began re-lacing the front of her nightgown and climbed off of the bed. She picked up both of their robes off the floor and tossed Sansa’s next to her. Sansa didn’t move to put it on but Daenerys didn’t really care. She put on her robe and turned to Sansa. _Not yet_, her mind yelled. Daenerys moved to stand behind the chair in front of the hearth, needing to put some distance between them, her hands gripping the back tightly until her fingers hurt. Bitter tears silently fell as she tried to seek comfort in the fire as she always had but there was nothing. She had nothing. These castle walls around her, which she had foolishly let into her heart as a kind of home, the home she’d always wanted, were now dark and foreboding. She’d been an idiot. She’d trusted when she should’ve been cautious. She’d loved when she should’ve showed restraint. _All those things I shared with her_. Daenerys had been nothing but honest and Sansa had been duplicitous from the very beginning. At least Sansa wasn’t trying to move her with loud cries and rending of garments. Yelling and crying would likely come later but at least right now, Sansa had the good sense to give Daenerys this quiet.

When the tears had stopped and she was able to feel rational again, Daenerys hoarsely said, “Tell me everything, Sansa.”

Sansa kept it brief but was forthcoming with details when asked. There wasn’t much to her plot after all so that part of the conversation didn’t take long. When Daenerys demanded names, she wasn’t surprised to hear Arya’s but it did surprise her that it was just the two of them. But she could understand the simplicity of it; the less who knew, the better it would be for everyone if it were discovered.

It was as if Daenerys wasn’t really there in the room with Sansa. It did eventually escalate to yelling and crying when they got to the ‘why’ of it, and she didn’t stay by the chair the whole time, but it was like it was happening to someone else. And she was glad for it. Because if she’d been totally within herself she likely wouldn’t have been able to keep from immediately punishing Sansa for this betrayal. Daenerys reluctantly appreciated how Sansa didn’t try to beg for her life, only for her sister’s, nor did she try to use hysterics to appeal for sympathy. When Daenerys would threaten her, she didn’t try to defend herself. When Daenerys would cry out in anguish, Sansa would hold back tears and let Daenerys rain her insults upon her. Sansa would only become impassioned in stating her change of heart and reasserting the North’s and Jon’s loyalty to Daenerys.

What had been the most heart-wrenching were the times when Daenerys became so overwhelmed by her need for Sansa that she’d give her openings to declare her own feelings for her, to say the words that Daenerys had foolishly said. But Sansa never did, even when Daenerys had dangled forgiveness as an incentive, even when Daenerys had ordered her to do so. Her only conclusion for this refusal was that Sansa didn’t feel the same way.

But Daenerys indeed still loved Sansa and she told Sansa to go to her rooms. She needed time to think over what was said. She needed time to mourn this devastation.

*::::*

Sansa walked back to her rooms in the early morning hours, grateful for the silence and the empty corridors. Her crying had stopped but she knew she looked disheveled and wouldn’t be able to explain it away. When she reached her bedchamber, Sansa slowly removed her robe and sat on the edge of her bed. Arya would not understand why she’d confessed the way she did. Or maybe she would. Daenerys loved her and Sansa’s heart yearned to respond in kind but her guilt at her unworthiness and the consequences for Jon and the realm held her back. She couldn’t think of any other way. And maybe a small selfish part of her felt relieved at unburdening herself, of showing Daenerys the kind of person she truly was, someone that didn’t deserve the queen’s love.

Daenerys’s fury had been warranted. It was more than betraying a queen. Daenerys had felt it as it was, a betrayal between friends, between lovers. That cry she made that prompted Grey Worm to come in… Sansa wanted to be struck down then and there, her heart unable to bear that she was the reason for Daenerys’s pain. Daenerys’s fury bubbled underneath the surface as Sansa briefly described the Winter town plan and lashed out at her in bursts afterwards. Sansa hesitated at first but she named her sister when asked. She begged that this remain between them, that it wasn’t Arya’s idea, that whatever punishment came Sansa’s way, she would accept it gladly if it meant her sister went free. It was the only thing she begged for.

The hardest parts, the parts that made Sansa struggle the most, were when Daenerys asked ‘why’ or when Daenerys’s heart cried out for her love. Sansa’s heart fought to express itself at those moments but she resisted. And Sansa did her best to prevent her responses from growing desperate with excuses about the North and her fear. Then when Sansa shifted to explaining why she changed her mind, avoiding any mention of her true feelings, she tried to be as succinct as possible, limiting her praise for Daenerys’s character. She was guilty and didn’t want to sound like she was trying to lessen her punishment. She mostly tried to stay silent in the end.

_“So it was all feigned? All of it?” Daenerys asked quietly._

_“No, not all. Many things we shared were true. So many things.” _

That was the one time Sansa had hinted at her own feelings. Lying and saying yes would’ve been better at pushing her away but Sansa had made the mistake of looking Daenerys in the eye and seeing her heartbreak. She couldn’t help but want to assure her that it hadn’t all been false between them. Their kisses, their desire, the way they struggled with their feelings, all of that had been real.

Sansa had wanted to take Daenerys in her arms, to prove her devotion, to comfort her queen. And at one point, when Daenerys was standing in front of her where she was sitting on the edge of the bed, Sansa raised her hand up to try to touch her. Daenerys had stared at her hand as if it was a strange thing and she put it back down. Her eyes had been cold and threatening but also tired and broken.

_“Go back to your rooms now, Lady Stark. I have much to think about.”_

And Sansa had obeyed her queen’s command. When she walked out of the room and shut the door, Grey Worm and Missandei were there waiting. Daenerys yelled out that she was not to be disturbed and Sansa had felt Grey Worm’s hard stare, and Missandei’s disappointed one, but she didn’t move. Sansa had stayed where she was for several moments, waiting to be taken into custody, waiting to be called back in, warring with her urge to go back in there and declare her feelings. But when she heard the sobs coming from the room, she had fled.

Sansa blinked away the memory of it, stood up, and walked to her wardrobe, picking out what she would wear tomorrow. Then she sat at her writing table and began to write notes to Arya, Bran, and Jon, stating her hopes and wishes for them, and leaving brief instructions on gifts for the servants. She thought about writing a note to Daenerys but her heart ached too much to think of the words she would write. Confess her true feelings? That she loved her with everything that was in her? Risk further damaging whatever future Jon would have with her? No, there would be no note for Daenerys. Sansa’s hands shook as she sealed the notes to her siblings and slipped them into a drawer. _I’ll let Jon know they’re there after I’m arrested. _She reminded herself that she should rise early and go warn Arya, to give her a chance to get away. The only reason she wasn’t going to Arya now was because she knew Arya would try to convince Sansa to come with her, or worse, try to do something to prevent Daenerys from taking action.

Looking around her bedchamber, Sansa contemplated whether there were any other things she should settle but there was nothing more to do until morning and Sansa walked over to the bed. Instead of slipping in to her side, she lay where Daenerys had lain during those nights together, and Sansa cried; cried for her lost friend, for the love she would never have. She was afraid, not of her deserved punishment, but of how Daenerys would look at her in the morning, of how coldly the woman she loved would act towards her. _I love her and she hates me now._

*::::*

There was one final early morning meeting before her departure. Daenerys maintained her composure, hiding her anger from everyone, only sparing one glance towards Sansa, who stood quietly in the back looking down. Arya stood next to her, staring at Daenerys, her expression inscrutable as usual.

When Jon wheeled Bran inside, Bran uncharacteristically spoke right away.

“There’s something you should know before you go. Cersei lost the child. She’s very ill at the moment. And very irrational. Caution must be used when taking the city.”

Daenerys glanced at Tyrion beside her at this news and he looked crestfallen. She put a hand on his shoulder.

“Thank you, Lord Brandon. You’ve been very helpful. While I have no love for Cersei Lannister, I do not wish this pain on any woman. I just hope we’re able to end her reign before she has a chance to inflict harm on more innocents.” Daenerys hardened her gaze and glanced at Jon.

Jon said, “The Queen and I will leave in a couple of hours. The Dothraki and Unsullied are ready, and the carriages and supplies are prepared.” He looked around the room and nodded back to Daenerys.

She finally allowed herself to look at Sansa and Sansa stepped forward and looked up at her, bracing herself for whatever words Daenerys would say. Those piercing eyes again, her heart ached at the sight of them. Sansa looked as if she hadn’t slept. Daenerys hadn’t slept either.

“Thank you, Lady Stark, for your hospitality. Our stay was longer than originally planned but you were a gracious hostess and I will not forget the North’s or your sacrifices. You are now Wardeness and Lady Paramount of the North. May the North’s people take comfort knowing you will do anything and everything to protect them.”

Sansa was very good at hiding her reactions in public and only allowed the slightest twitch in the corner of her mouth in response to Daenerys’s words. But that response told Daenerys everything: Sansa had expected to be exposed and punished. Sansa bowed her head and said, “Thank you, your Grace. Winterfell will miss you.”

There was an awkward silence before Tyrion cut in with, “Let’s get on with it.”

Jon wheeled Bran out, followed by Sansa, Arya, and Ser Davos. Daenerys nodded to Missandei, Grey Worm, and Varys, who walked out of the room together. It was just Tyrion now and she gave him a look telling him to stay.

After she was sure the others were far from the room, she closed the door.

“You will not be coming with me, Lord Tyrion. I’ve already instructed Missandei to make sure your belongings are put back in your room.”

Tyrion looked confused.

“I am your Hand. My place is at your side while you finally win the throne,” he argued.

“I will be relieving you as my Hand in the coming weeks. You’ve served as well as you could but I think we both know that I no longer have faith in your judgement. Too many errors on your part and a failure to judge your sister objectively. After I take King’s Landing, I’ll send you a message on when I want you to come to help settle Lannister matters.”

“Your Grace, I…”

Daenerys interrupted, “I have other reasons.”

She walked around the table to move closer to the window so she wouldn’t have to look at him.

“You will make sure your brother stays in Winterfell. Your sister is lost and his punishment will be death if he tries to interfere. And, I need you to stay here to look after Lady Stark. Keep her company and keep her safe. You have my blessing to wed her, if she’ll have you. You will make her happy.”

“And if she refuses me?”

“Then you will help her find someone good. I know you won’t let anyone near her that is undeserving.”

“I wonder why you have not asked her to go with you to King’s Landing. She has obviously become a very trusted friend.”

Daenerys stiffened, recalling how she had done just that. She couldn’t tell if Tyrion was trying to mock her or was merely curious about her decision. She turned to look at him. From the look on his face, Daenerys could tell he knew the true extent of her feelings for Sansa.

“Not so very trusted, Lord Tyrion. She plotted to have me killed.”

She saw his face harden and he approached her slowly.

“And you know this how?”

“She confessed it to me last night.”

“Surely she was in jest,” he smiled, trying to laugh it off, but Daenerys could tell he was scared for Sansa.

“Please, do not worry yourself, Tyrion. No one will harm her,” she said softly, and turned away from him. She could feel his eyes on her for a long time but she couldn’t look at him.

“As I am still your Hand, it would be my duty to advise you that you open yourself up to more attacks by letting Lady Stark go unpunished. If word got out about this…”

“I doubt she or her sister will say anything. They were the only conspirators. Anyway, it’s done. Lady Stark changed her mind, I’m still alive, and as you’ve seen she has worked to get the Vale, the Riverlands, and the rest of the northern houses to openly support me. You see, Lord Tyrion? I am not so inept at Westerosi politics after all.” Daenerys’s voice cracked at the end, the tears threatening to come.

“My Queen,” Tyrion whispered, gently taking her hand in his. They stood that way for a few moments while she took the time to compose herself. When she looked at him again, he looked up at her with such love on his face. Not the romantic kind that she’d occasionally catch from him in the past, but the kind an adoring subject gives his queen. Daenerys appreciated it and smiled in return.

“I swear to you that I will be good to her, your Grace.”

“I know you will, Lord Tyrion.”

*::::*

Daenerys knew Sansa would be in the Godswood after the meeting. She walked slowly towards her and then stood next to her, regarding Sansa silently. Sansa showed nothing but that icy reserve.

“I keep thinking about the things you said in my bedchamber, some of the things that happened…” Daenerys softly said. “I wanted to say that I do believe that at least some part of it was real.”

Daenerys closely observed Sansa’s face. She hadn’t turned to face her but Daenerys could see Sansa clench her jaw, how her breathing had gotten quick and shallow. But she did not speak.

“The fact of the matter is, I knew your initial overture of friendship was made with an ulterior motive. I knowingly engaged, thinking that I could also twist our encounters to my advantage. And we shared many honest moments; something true grew out of the subterfuge. Especially after that kiss in Winter town, you _were _changed towards me. I thought it was because I’d won your heart but I see now that I’d only won your mercy. And you didn’t have to keep spending time with me but you did. Because our friendship was real. You supported me, you helped sway the lords towards me, you involved me in decision-making here, those were the actions of a friend. We both felt something… those nights together… the things that we shared with one another… But even so, it’s all colored now by betrayal.”

“Much of what happened between us I never intended at the start. It was all… unexpected,” said Sansa quietly, without emotion.

“But your plot to kill me was intended,” stated Daenerys.

With a sigh, Sansa turned her head towards Daenerys. Her eyes were soft and sorrowful. Daenerys hardened herself, her anger still too fresh. Her blood burned in her veins and she wanted to yell at Sansa again for ruining everything, for ruining what they had. If only Sansa hadn’t said anything at all, she never would’ve known. This heartbreak would not be happening.

“Do you intend to harm me?” asked Sansa, an echo of what Daenerys had asked of her weeks ago.

“Do you wish for me to harm you?” asked Daenerys, her voice trembling.

Turning away, Sansa whispered, “I would deserve it.”

“Yes, you would. I stand here waiting for you to convince me of some truth about how you feel but could I even believe the words? You know how I feel. Like an idiot, I declared myself to you thinking you felt the same, or something close to it. I can’t even think of last night without cringing in shame at my hope for us.”

Sansa didn’t answer. Daenerys scoffed in exasperation, trying to will Sansa to fight her, to fight to preserve some sort of connection that would allow them to think of each other without regret. Because when she’d told Sansa how she felt, she saw it in Sansa’s eyes, too. She felt it in her touch and on her lips. And if Sansa hadn’t felt those things, she never would’ve confessed her betrayal. It had been in her best interest not to but she did it anyway. She put her life in Daenerys’s hands. And in some strange, deluded way, that had only strengthened Daenerys’s love for her.

But maybe she would be better off just hating her. She would marry Jon, rule Westeros, and forget all about the short weeks their friendship formed, blossomed into love, and then shattered.

She waited a few moments and when she concluded Sansa would not say the words she wanted to hear, she turned to leave.

“Your Grace,” called Sansa.

Daenerys stopped and turned around.

“I know my words mean nothing to you now but I am truly sorry. I was wrong. So incredibly wrong. I hope someday you can forgive me,” said Sansa, walked close to Daenerys, and reached out to take a hand in hers, and Daenerys let her. With both hands holding Daenerys’s hand she continued.

“Your kingdoms need you. To be strong, to be just, to be the good queen I know you will be, to be the good woman I know that you are. May the Gods keep you safe in the wars to come. I…” Sansa broke off. The tears were welling in her eyes and Daenerys was tempted to pull her into an embrace, to tell her again how she felt. But Daenerys held her tongue before she said anything that took her off the path she had chosen.

Sansa let go of her hand and bowed her head, whispering, “Please stay safe.”

Daenerys gave a curt nod and walked away without looking back.

*::::*

Once out of the Godswood, Daenerys was startled by a waiting Arya. She looked around to see if anyone else was nearby but they were alone.

Eyeing her warily, Daenerys said, “Do I still need to be on my guard with you, Lady Arya?”

“Always,” smiled Arya eerily. “Not about that, though. She would never forgive me. But I wanted to ask you the same. Are my sister and I safe?”

“I could never harm her,” she answered simply and turned to walk away.

“So that’s it? That’s how you’re going to leave things between the two of you?” called Arya from behind.

Daenerys stopped but did not turn around. She waited for Arya to walk and stand in front of her.

“She loves you,” whispered Arya.

Daenerys scoffed, her brow furrowing, warning Arya away from this topic.

“So now you’re going to be a fool, too?” Arya asked in a scolding tone. “She may not have said it to you or to anyone else but I know my sister. And you know her, too.”

“I’ve given my permission for Lord Tyrion to propose marriage. She will say yes.”

“That may be true but she’s not heartbroken over him. She’s heartbroken over you.”

“What do you expect me to do?” hissed Daenerys under her breath. “What you two did…”

“I understand that you’re angry right now. What we did, or planned but didn’t do, you are right to be furious. But you do realize why it didn’t happen. Deep down, you know how she really feels and how you really feel. And when you’re done taking your fury out on Cersei, you’ll still feel it,” said Arya. Then she surprised Daenerys by walking away.

“And where is your path taking you?” Daenerys asked, catching up to walk alongside her. They were now in view of others, moving through a busy courtyard.

“My plan was to kill Cersei. But these last weeks have shown me other things worth living for... I will go to King’s Landing and fight for you. For her and for Jon,” said Arya. Then she lowered her voice, “Just you be careful that I don’t fall in love with you, too. Unlike the four of you, I don’t share.”

Daenerys fought the small smile that wanted to grow on her face. Arya was exasperating but she still liked her bluntness.

“Keep an eye on him. Jon will feel so out of place there.”

“I know. And I will try,” Daenerys replied.

“That reminds me,” said Arya in a slightly sad tone. She grabbed Daenerys’s arm and guided her to a small alcove. “I have a favor to ask.”

“What is it?”

“Gendry. I mean, Lord Baratheon. He loves me. And I… well, I feel the same but I turned down his marriage proposal. He deserves better, he deserves a real lady. But he’s not going to know how to fend off all the lords’ daughters thrown his way. If he meets someone good, by all means give them your blessing, but…”

Daenerys scowled at her. She was tired of bending over backwards for these Stark women, of helping them with their lovers. Plus, this woman had been fully prepared to kill her. Why should she help her? Glaring at her, Daenerys could tell that Arya knew what she was thinking.

Arya returned her glare with a cold, defiant one. As if saying, ‘are you going to help me or not?’

“If she’s not worthy, you want me to intervene,” Daenerys said under her breath. “Very well.”

“Thank you,” said Arya, her head bowing slightly. She turned to walk away but then stopped. Over her shoulder, she said, “You know, I wouldn’t be talking to you right now if I didn’t think she made the right choice. Forgive her. Grudges only harden hearts. I should know.”

Daenerys watched Arya walk away and she sighed with a mixture of sadness and anger. She looked around at this place she’d gotten to know so well, another home that she couldn’t have, yet she loved it still. Taking one more glance towards the Godswood, she then turned away and began walking towards where Missandei and Jon were waiting. It was time to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to late nights and “Gorecki” by Lamb on repeat.
> 
> I know that chapter was rough but the truth had to come out. Okay, two chapters left to rebuild what was shattered. We’ll get there, Daensa fans. Thanks to everyone still following along.
> 
> Update will come at the end of next week.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end of ch 19 put me in a sad, breakup-like daze and I feel like Sansa is in that, too. “True Love Waits” by Radiohead pretty much fits that mood.

Chapter 20

In the weeks after Daenerys left, Sansa worked hard to stay distracted. Visits to Winter town, tours of the keep, keeping track of the food stores, anything she could think of. But it was never enough. Daenerys was gone and the emptiness in Sansa couldn’t be filled. She would write letters in her mind, random observances of her day, updates on little Falon, things she thought Daenerys would like to know. Writing them down was out of the question, however. There was no doubt in her mind that Daenerys didn’t want to hear from her.

But Sansa would see her wherever she went. Her small figure standing strong and proud in the snow, the soft waves of her hair as it cascaded over her shoulders. Sansa would hear her laughter and remember how her face lit up as she did so. How they had laughed together that first night together in Sansa’s bed. How they would share secret smiles. How they had kissed each other the first time, when Sansa was desperate not to lose her. How they had kissed each other the last time, just before she had broken Daenerys’s heart.

Sansa’s mind would wander when she was in front of petitioners, wondering how Daenerys would respond to a particular grievance. During meals, Sansa would have to remind herself to be attentive but would still lose track of conversations. She didn’t like being in her rooms because in them she would remember how they would stare at one another, lying in her bed, longing in their eyes but too afraid to do anything about it; or remember the time when she had done something, pleasuring herself in front of Daenerys, but again letting her fear stop her from doing more; or have to endure the quiet moment just before waking, when she would imagine opening her eyes to a sleeping Daenerys beside her, only to have to blink away the tears when she found herself alone.

Sansa wasn’t quite sure why Tyrion stayed behind but he’d told her that he would soon be relieved of his duties as Hand to the Queen and asked to stay, which she allowed. Sansa would often wonder if he’d been tasked to spy on her but she didn’t ask. Tyrion kept his distance but she’d kept an eye on him to make sure he wasn’t receiving news he might try to keep from her. Not that she really thought he would, but her worry over Daenerys wouldn’t let her alone. Bran, for some reason, wouldn’t give her any updates and so Maester Wolkan received frequent visits as she inquired after arriving ravens. She often stood on the outer wall of Winterfell, looking south, as if trying to will some shred of news to arrive.

When the first raven arrived that said Jon and Daenerys had wiped out Euron’s ships upon arriving at Dragonstone, she went to the Godswood to pray in thankfulness. It was a sparse message, typical of Jon, and there was no other news, but knowing Daenerys was still alive was enough.

It would be another couple of weeks before Wolkan approached her while she was in the yard, saying a raven had come from King’s Landing. Sansa broke Jon’s seal and read it: they’d won, Cersei was dead, and for loyalty and service to the realm the North would be an independent kingdom with Sansa named Queen in the North. Ravens would be sent across the land announcing Daenerys’s victory and the status of the North. Sansa was stunned. Looking up at Wolkan, she told him she would be in the Godswood and asked him to send for Tyrion. He scurried away and she glanced again at the message. _The North is free. Why would she do this? Why?_ It should feel like a victory and instead it felt like an even greater loss.

*::::*

Sansa wasn’t in the Godswood for very long before Tyrion approached, holding a scroll of his own that was no doubt from Daenerys. Her hands wanted to grab it from him, to see what she’d written.

“Details about how they won?” Sansa asked.

“Yes. Minimal loss of life, the city surrendered almost immediately after the dragons took out the city’s defenses.”

“And Cersei?”

“Poisoned during the battle. Her Hand, Qyburn. He likely thought he had a better chance at survival if he brought down Daenerys’s enemy himself but his treason for it is death regardless. Sentence has likely already been carried out.”

“Your brother?”

“I just spoke with him,” he replied sadly. “Brienne is with him now.”

Sansa nodded. She wanted to feel sympathy for Tyrion but nothing could stop the satisfaction she felt at knowing that Cersei was finally gone. _It’s over._

Tyrion glanced at the scroll in her hand and Sansa passed it over to him. After a moment, he handed the one from Daenerys to her. Sansa slowly read it over. It was a short message with the details he’d already shared and the news about the North. But the last part made her breath catch and her heart squeeze tightly. Jon had not included it in his message to her. He and Daenerys were betrothed, to be kept quiet for now, but the official announcement would come after her coronation.

“Is this in her hand?” she asked softly, fingers moving over the lettering.

“It is,” he replied.

She could feel Tyrion’s eyes on her and she held her breath steady as they returned their respective messages to each other.

“When you declared for her, I thought she’d won you but you ended up winning her, didn’t you? She risks future entanglements with other kingdoms by freeing the North. Why do you think she’s done so?”

“Perhaps because I was able to convince her that we’d earned it,” said Sansa vaguely, still not quite believing that Daenerys would give this to her, not after her betrayal.

Tyrion gave her a disbelieving stare but she held eye contact until he relented and turned away. _Does he know? Did she tell him what I nearly did?_

“Yes, yes, it’s a good message. And one we’ll sell hard to the northern lords to keep their loyalty to you and friendliness towards her,” Tyrion said. He didn’t look at her as he spoke again. “The queen and I would speak often of how to keep the kingdoms on friendly terms, and one of the ways we’d discussed was calling the Wardens to King’s Landing for frequent visits, annual meetings and such. She also would’ve had to visit on the occasional tour, visiting the people, reminding her lords of her authority. But with the North as an independent kingdom…”

“There will not be a reason to see her again for many years, at least,” Sansa interrupted, understanding his point. “Delegates would do all the negotiating between our kingdoms.”

Sansa looked away and tried not to let Tyrion see the pain she felt at the prospect of not seeing Daenerys again. It shouldn’t have surprised her and yet it did, the pain quickly turning to a frustrated anger.

“Will you compose a proper response to her, thanking her and so forth? I will review and sign it later,” said Sansa, trying to sound cold and indifferent.

“Of course, my lady,” Tyrion replied, bowing slightly.

Sansa turned to walk away but his words stopped her.

“Lady Sansa, there’s something I wish to discuss with you. Before the queen left she gave me permission to ask for your hand. And if you refuse, I still wish to remain here for a time and serve your kingdom until you and it find your footing.”

“What do you mean she gave you permission?” Sansa asked sharply, unable to hide her emotions now.

“I do not believe she meant any offense. She knew I had made a prior offer, one which she took issue with as I was still in her service, but she has since relieved me of that duty. And I believe she only meant for me to know that she had no objection if I wanted to ask you again.”

“Is that something you want, Tyrion?” Sansa asked, taken aback, amazed that he would ask again after everything that had happened. And beneath her anger against Daenerys for this ‘permission’ there was also hurt, this additional effort to push Sansa away from her.

“You are in a sensitive position now, my lady. Lords from everywhere will seek to court you, to seek your power. And if that is your wish, I will utilize all the skills at my disposal, including those of Bran, to help you find the one that best suits you, though that could take a while. It’s true, a marriage to a Lannister might ruffle some northern feathers but at least you would know that I would be completely loyal to you. I would never try to undermine your power. And any children we have would be Starks.”

Sansa thought it over quietly, wondering if there were other personal motives for this renewal of his proposal. He was sacrificing himself in a way to help her and keep her safe, and she owed him the truth of what marriage to her would mean.

“What about love?” she asked softly. “Your arguments make sense and I am selfish enough to accept but not if you harbor hopes of love for yourself, from me or anyone else. I can only offer you friendship. We will not share rooms, though we will do our duty for heirs. If you have even the smallest hope for more, then I would rather not do this and cause you pain. Is that something you can live with?”

“Do you remember telling me any husband you took must also not love Daenerys Targaryen?” Tyrion asked instead of answering.

Sansa stiffened. She had told him that after he proposed the morning after their night together. Her heart pounded as she realized the honesty that he required of her now.

There was understanding on Tyrion’s face when he said, “Well, we’re in a strange predicament now, aren’t we?” Then he asked softly, “Do you love her?”

Sansa didn’t respond. It was a simple question. But it left her breathless. To say it out loud…

“Do you love me?” Tyrion asked in feigned shock.

“Tyrion,” answered Sansa, exasperated, suddenly desperate for him to drop this conversation.

“Hmmm, not really a yes, is it?” he said with a smile, as if he hadn’t really expected her to say yes. “But you do love her, don’t you?”

Sansa felt the tears drop and her breathing became more erratic. Her heart broke just a little bit more knowing that this would be the first time the words would leave her lips, and wished that Daenerys was here instead of Tyrion to hear it. The picture came to her of Daenerys as she declared herself when they were in bed that last night, all the love and hope in her eyes that Sansa hadn’t believed existed, real and in front of her for the taking.

“I do. I love her,” Sansa whispered and dropped to her knees. Tyrion held her in his arms as she sobbed against him.

“Tyrion,” she said suddenly, pulling out of his arms, trying to calm herself. “Knowing how I feel, if you wish to rescind your offer…

“Sansa,” he said, hands moving to hold her face to wipe her tears. “We are friends. I’m not going to lie and say that I didn’t think we could have had more but those weeks with her showed me a different you. She’s made you smile in ways that I’ve never been able to. Your friendship will be enough for me. Successful marriages between people of our station have been built on less. And you will be hard-pressed to find another man who will be happy or even tolerant with this person you’ve revealed yourself to be. Now for some delicate questions… have the two of you… um… that is to say…”

Sansa quickly stood up and looked away, uncomfortable with discussing this subject with him.

“Why do you need to know this?” she asked quietly.

“It’s not for some perverted thrill, Sansa. I just want to know how you two left things,” Tyrion huffed.

“Not in the way I would’ve liked,” Sansa answered slowly.

“So there’s something unfinished…” Tyrion looked thoughtful. “She doesn’t know how you feel, does she?”

“No. I couldn’t bring myself to say the words,” Sansa replied.

“But she said them to you?”

She nodded, doing her best not to flinch at the memory of what came after Daenerys had done so.

“She is quite impulsive,” he said with a smile. “You could write to her…”

Sansa’s mouth opened in shock. “No,” she said, shaking her head.

“Hear me out, my lady. If parting is what you desire, it will be better for you to have the closure that comes from knowing what could have been and that your goodbyes are given with love. I saw how the two of you interacted just before she left. There was no resolution there. And you’ve been a hollow shell ever since. So, I will likely be summoned to King’s Landing for the coronation and other Lannister matters, and dragons are much faster than horses.”

She couldn’t believe what Tyrion had just said. He was actually suggesting that she summon Daenerys to... to… The whole idea was madness. Not just the suggestion but the idea that Daenerys would even come… she’d been so angry and cold with her. Soon enough Sansa will have her own coronation and, if she accepted his offer, afterwards she and Tyrion will be wed. Tyrion didn’t know what she’d done, her betrayal, why Daenerys was so angry with her. Sansa shook her head again.

“You are much more unorthodox and generous than I thought you would be about this, my lord,” Sansa gently said.

“If you accept me, I don’t want you trapped and bound to me like you were before. You will enter our marriage knowing that you are free to love her. In fact, you’re a queen now and royal reputations can be harder to tarnish if you are discreet. If occasionally the two of you meet for a political summit somewhere private…” Tyrion trailed off, eyes with a knowing expression. “Write to her. She will come.”

“It is too late, Tyrion. It… ended badly. She’s gone. Someday I’ll tell you what happened. But I appreciate your words. It means more to me than you know that I am able to be my full self with you, and to have you accept it.”

Sansa looked at the heart tree and tried to think about marriage to Tyrion, or any man for that matter. The thought of having to hide her feelings exhausted her, which made Tyrion the better prospect, but at the same time she dreaded it. As much as he tried to assure her, she knew that what might have been between them would eventually hurt him. It would be so much easier if her heart was free but it wasn’t and likely never would be.

“I will need time to think on your proposal, my lord. Is that all right?” Sansa asked quietly.

“Take all the time you need, my Queen.”

Sansa looked at him and smiled, though it did not hold the warmth it should have. Despite knowing things were as they should be, despite getting what she had sought from Daenerys in the first place, and despite being able to look to the future without fear for the first time in years, the pain in Sansa’s heart told her that the life ahead of her would be far too long and lonely without Daenerys to share it with.

*::::*

_Six weeks later._

Sansa was in her bed reading over various letters and documents before neatly stacking them and sliding them into the drawer of the table next to her bed. She rubbed her eyes. The coronation was coming soon; she’d put it off long enough and the stress of planning was getting to her. She thought again of the events of the last couple of moon turns. The food shipment from Meereen had arrived at White Harbor and distribution had gone well but there was still much to do for a war ravaged region in the middle of winter. The northern armies only recently returned to their homes, having been needed in King’s Landing to help restore order and with food distribution when the refugees who had escaped prior to the attack returned to the city. After the news had spread of the North’s independence, her lords had hastened to Winterfell and she immediately put a stop to their congratulatory remarks by having Tyrion go over the dire conditions with them so they knew exactly what independence had cost them. She was angry at them and would remind them every year if she had to. The North was not self-sufficient and would not be for many years, if at all. Sansa had also announced that, by her request, Tyrion had hastily negotiated trade agreements with the Six Kingdoms to ensure the North’s people would not starve, in addition to a mutual defense agreement. In the coming years, these agreements might be renegotiated but for now, the ties between the North and the Six Kingdoms would remain strong. The lords had groused but they had their Queen in the North, and especially after their vulnerability had been laid out by Tyrion, they complimented Sansa on her wisdom.

Tyrion handled all correspondence with the south. Sansa had told him she was too busy with her own lords and he had the good form not to challenge her. She would not be able to put off writing herself for long; as queen it was her duty to do all she could to maintain the safety of her kingdom and it would eventually be considered rude that the Queen in the North wouldn’t deign to write the occasional message to a neighboring ruler. And yet she was afraid of the response Daenerys might give her. Sansa’s rule was a struggle now between bickering lords and their vassals jockeying for her favor, not-so-polite inquiries about what was to be done with Last Hearth and the other empty seats, and her constant efforts to not think of Daenerys when her concentration was required. It was getting better but only a little.

There was a knock on her door. The hour was not that late but still Sansa was surprised and annoyed. Pulling on her robe, she walked over and opened it. Her annoyance turned to worry when she saw it was Maester Wolkan, looking frantic.

“Your Grace, I apologize for the hour but Queen Daenerys has just arrived and is coming directly to your rooms.”

“She came alone?” Sansa asked, glancing behind him to see if anyone was approaching.

“She had one of her Unsullied soldiers with her but yes, your Grace. They came on her dragon and it scared the men when it landed outside the walls. Her Grace just said she needed to see you as soon as you were able. She sent me ahead but she’ll be here soon.”

“Thank you, Maester Wolkan,” Sansa answered calmly. It was important that she did not project any worry, as if she’d been expecting this visit. "The Queen of the Six Kingdoms is our guest. Please tell the servants to prepare the rooms below mine; a bath should be drawn, and the kitchens should provide a variety of plates of food to be put in her bedchamber. And something for her soldier. I assume they’ll be hungry.”

“Yes, your Grace,” he answered, and hurried away.

Sansa closed the door and began pacing. Brienne was in her own rooms asleep. The Queensguard outside in the corridor had been handpicked but she didn’t need protection, did she? Hadn’t Arya told her she believed her when Daenerys told her she wouldn’t be harmed? _Then why is she here? Why come with only one soldier?_

She heard the knock on her door and her heart stuttered but it also came with a certain flutter she hadn’t felt in weeks. Sansa wished she had had more time to compose herself, to at least dress, but she went to the door and opened it. Grey Worm nodded in greeting, stepped aside, and there she was with wind swept hair, looking more beautiful than she remembered.

They looked at each other for a long moment, letting the time since seeing each other sink in. The flutter in Sansa’s chest became stronger and she had to fight against the urge to bow or curtsy. She was a queen now and had to act like it. But Sansa was also nervous. She didn’t know how Daenerys would act towards her.

“I’d forgotten how cold it is up here,” Daenerys said. “May I come in, your Grace?”

Sansa stepped aside and welcomed Daenerys into her bedchamber. She said, “Yes, I imagine it’s quite a shock after King’s Landing.”

Daenerys looked at her as she passed and there was a hint of a smirk. Sansa resisted quirking an eyebrow in response and before closing the door, she said, “The guest rooms are in flux at the moment. I’ve chosen the rooms below mine for you. If it pleases you, I’d like Ser Podrick and Ser Brienne to stand watch over your rooms tonight so that Grey Worm can also rest. I’m sure you’re both very tired after your long travels. You are safe here, no one would dare cross the person who freed the North, but it would give me peace of mind.”

She watched Daenerys give a nod to her and Grey Worm and Sansa spoke quickly with her own guard, telling him to pass along her orders to Podrick and Brienne, that Podrick would stand guard first and Brienne was to relieve him a couple of hours before dawn, and also to bring a cot to the queen’s adjoining solar so that Grey Worm wouldn’t have to be far from his queen. Then she closed the door and turned back to Daenerys.

Their initial opening had been polite and yet so much was between them now. The fact that she came alone made her keenly aware that Daenerys had left King’s Landing without much thought to her own safety. The south would hold Sansa responsible if anything happened to her. And on top of this worry was happiness at seeing her again. Sansa felt more drawn to her than ever.

Walking to the hearth, in which burned a low fire, Daenerys took a seat in Sansa’s chair. It was a little thing but it was an act of dominance over Sansa’s new royal status that made Sansa smile. She couldn’t see her face but she had a feeling Daenerys was smiling, too. Sansa unhurriedly took a chair from her small table and moved it beside Daenerys, then sat down. Her expression was calm and patient as she waited for Daenerys to speak.

Turning to Sansa, Daenerys gave an appraising look.

“You wear it well.”

“And what is that, your Grace?”

“The crown.”

Sansa nodded slightly and turned to the fire.

“It is heavier than I thought it would be,” Sansa said after a pause.

“Spoken like a true queen. Only those who feel the weight of it can have any hope of doing good for their people.”

Her words were flattering but several weeks of dealing with flattering lords had taught Sansa to mute her responses. She turned her gaze back to Daenerys but wasn’t sure what Daenerys was feeling or thinking.

As if reading her thoughts, Daenerys said, “It is hard to interpret your response to my words. Another sign that I was right in my earlier judgement that you would make a formidable queen. I am glad we are not enemies.”

“I’m glad, too,” Sansa said quietly, trying to maintain her mask in the face of Daenerys’s admission that at least they were not to be at odds with each other. She had no idea where any of this was going or why Daenerys was here but at least they weren’t arguing. “How is my brother? How goes the people’s adjustment to your rule?”

“Jon is well. He dislikes the warmth but he is kept busy with rebuilding efforts. As a matter of fact, he seems to be thriving in that role. As for the people, per your suggestion, I have taken to making rounds through the city with Ser Davos as a guide. It is much larger and busier than Winter town but I think I’m making progress.”

“I made no such suggestion, your Grace.”

“Was it not you speaking through Tyrion in one of his letters to me?” Daenerys asked, the smirk on full display now.

Sansa finally allowed a smile but didn’t reply.

“You could’ve written to me yourself,” said Daenerys quietly.

“I didn’t think you would want to hear from me after…” Sansa whispered. She turned back to the fire. Courtesy was what was required now and she couldn’t presume to approach the familiarity they once shared. “I received a letter from Arya. Before she left she expressed an interest in leaving Westeros but apparently she has stayed in King’s Landing. Did you have anything to do with that?”

Daenerys smiled. “A certain Lord of Storm’s End has managed to hold her interest. I may have suggested to him to try again, this time making sure to tell Arya that she didn’t have to be a traditional Lady, and hints may have made their way to her that he was going to have trouble winning over the lords of the Stormlands, that he needed someone he could trust at his side. So far it seems to be working. We shall see.”

“Thank you,” Sansa said warmly. Perhaps a little too warmly because Daenerys seemed to tense and blink rapidly a few times. Sansa decided to change the subject again.

“And how are you, your Grace? Is it everything you expected?” asked Sansa.

“Yes and no, your Grace. I am no stranger to the responsibility of rule but it does feel different. I don’t know why I expected it to feel like the home I’d lost but it hasn’t been like that at all. I am a stranger to the Red Keep and King’s Landing and perhaps that is a good thing. I don’t feel attached to certain sentiments. The Iron Throne has been melted down and will be turned into something useful. I feel a sense of purpose, a duty to my people to make their lives better. I have plans and I will spend the rest of my life making them happen. The people will benefit, maybe not in this generation but they will in the next and in the one after that.”

Sansa smiled as she watched Daenerys glow in her description of the future. She understood. Daenerys belonged to her kingdom now and not to any one person. She swallowed whatever sadness she felt at the state of their friendship and tried to be brave for Daenerys.

“I look forward to seeing the changes you bring to your people. I have no doubt your legacy will be a positive one.”

Daenerys smiled in response but after those words an awkward silence came between them. Sansa knew it was time to find out the reason for this visit.

“I’m surprised you are here. Isn’t your coronation in four days?” asked Sansa.

Daenerys only nodded. They looked at each other for a few moments before Daenerys stood up and walked away from the hearth, no longer looking at Sansa.

“As you know, I’m legitimizing Jon after my coronation and after that we will wed. What I haven’t shared is that he will be my King. King Jon Stark,” Daenerys said softly. “We will rule together. Your coronation is in ten days, is it not?”

“Yes. The lords will begin arriving in a week, which is why the guest rooms are in such disarray as we prepare,” Sansa answered, distracted, trying to absorb the news about Jon. _There’s something she’s not saying._

“Tyrion will miss it. I would think he’d want to see you officially crowned.”

“I know but he didn’t want me to wait. The North needs stability as quickly as possible, he said. It would’ve happened sooner but I wanted to give time for the northern armies to return to their homes.”

Daenerys surprised Sansa by walking over to her bed, fingers grazing the furs lying on top. The gesture was far too personal and Sansa tried to suppress memories of their nights together in that bed.

“Are you married?” Daenerys asked in a whisper.

“No,” Sansa responded slowly, unsure of Daenerys’s intent. “We will wed when he returns, you know this. Jon and Arya plan to travel back here with him so they can attend.”

“Sometimes couples don’t wait...”

“Oh,” replied Sansa, blushing. “We’re waiting until the official ceremony. As you requested, Tyrion left for King’s Landing nearly two weeks ago, and should be there in time for your coronation. Then he will meet with the man that you approved to be his steward over Casterly Rock. As you know, Jaime didn’t contest it after you declared him ineligible for inheritance.”

There was another silence and Sansa could feel that familiar thick air of emotion between them. Asking this next question wasn’t necessary but a part of her wanted to see how Daenerys would respond.

“Will you come to my wedding?”

“No,” answered Daenerys harshly, her body tensing. After a few moments of silence she asked, “Do you love him?”

Sansa inhaled sharply. She hadn’t expected this question though she shouldn’t have been surprised. She stood up and walked over to Daenerys.

“Did you wait for him to be far away from here so that you could pay this visit to me?” Sansa asked, holding her breath. Daenerys looked at her but kept her expression neutral. There was something in her eyes, though, that Sansa couldn’t quite interpret.

“I do want to give my best wishes to you on your marriage but I can’t be here when you two… I just can’t…” said Daenerys softly, hands clasping together, a thin smile on her face. To someone who didn’t know her, it didn’t give away much. But to Sansa, it spoke volumes.

Daenerys continued, “You understand, of course. My schedule after the coronation is too full to leave so soon. Your family will be here and that’s what matters.”

“Of course, your Grace,” replied Sansa, looking away. She didn’t want Daenerys to know how well Sansa had read her. _Could Daenerys still feel the same way? After everything that’s happened? No. No, it’s not possible._

“Is he happy with my choice for steward of Casterly Rock? It took much persuasion but I believe the result is satisfactory.”

Sansa nearly laughed at this, and imagined the look on Ser Bronn’s face when such _persuasion_ had been implemented. It should’ve bothered her but Bronn had threatened Tyrion’s life for the promise of Highgarden, from what Tyrion had shared, and Sansa felt a similar approach in renegotiation was more than appropriate.

“I believe the word ‘fitting’ was the first word he said upon the news. Tyrion is also very much aware that you were well within your prerogative to not allow the husband of the queen of a neighboring kingdom to have property and title to any part of yours and is grateful,” Sansa said with a cordial smile. This sweet politeness was beginning to make Sansa feel ill; she desperately wanted Daenerys to just say what it was she came to say.

“Well, it does help with relations between our kingdoms, doesn’t it?” Daenerys quipped with a smile. Then she added softly, “Will you love him, Sansa?”

Sansa was shocked again at how quickly Daenerys moved back to this. _Is this why she’s here?_ The way Daenerys said her name sent a chill up her spine. The Queen of the Six Kingdoms, a woman she had kissed and nearly made love to, touching the furs on her bed, was asking her if she loved another. Sansa sighed. She didn’t want to lie and say yes but the answer seemed important to Daenerys in some way. Daenerys wanted her to say yes.

“I will, your Grace.”

Daenerys nodded and seemed to relax but Sansa saw there was still that hint of something in her eyes.

“Since we are speaking of our betrotheds, will you love Jon? As much as you did before…” Sansa trailed off. She was going to say ‘before me’ but it wouldn’t be right to say it out loud. Not after the way things had ended. But Daenerys had veered into this terrain and Sansa did not want to be the only one to answer such questions.

“It is a small spark but I feel as if it’ll grow in time.”

Sansa inwardly frowned. _That wasn’t a yes._

Daenerys paused and smiled slightly.

“There is something else. I’m with child. Jon and I had actually been discussing succession and had tentatively decided to ask for your permission to name one of your children as our heir. But now that won’t be necessary.”

Sansa was stunned, her eyes darting towards Daenerys’s abdomen which showed no obvious signs. _The night of the farewell feast?_ Daenerys seemed to read her perfectly well this time because Daenerys looked down almost guiltily. Then happiness filled Sansa. A child. She stepped closer to her with a wide smile. She was to be an aunt. The next generation of her family lived inside Daenerys. _The three of them will be a family_, her heart whispered sadly.

“I’m overjoyed. This is tremendous news. You both must be very excited. Will you name him or her Stark or Targaryen?” Sansa remembered their conversation about Daenerys’s conflicting views of her family. Making Jon her King now made sense. She knew the answer before Daenerys said it.

“She… I think it’ll be a she… She will be a Stark,” Daenerys answered, a small smile on her lips. “I don’t want my child to grow up with the pressure of continuing the Targaryen name and I don’t know if there will be more children. So, Jon and I will be the last. A Stark ruling the North and a Stark ruling the Six Kingdoms. House Stark will become the most powerful house in the land. Who knows, maybe a few generations down the line, a marriage between distant cousins will unite our kingdoms. Or maybe sooner in a marriage between my child and yours…”

“Thinking of new ways to take the North back, I see,” Sansa teased.

Daenerys chuckled and that sent warmth shooting through Sansa. She’d forgotten what that felt like.

“It is perhaps not appropriate to discuss arranged marriages given our own experiences with them but I can’t imagine any other family I would trust more. It’s why I thought of making your future child my heir. Knowing you, knowing the strength of character that comes with growing up in the North, those northern sensibilities combined with your knowledge of the politics of the south, no one else will compare,” Daenerys said with a smirk.

Sansa smiled at the old reference and wished they could stay like this forever.

“If your Grace agrees, Jon can bring her here to meet her family and see if the potential is there. If not, we won’t force it,” Daenerys offered.

“That is many years away but I will speak to Tyrion,” Sansa replied. “Speaking of the North, I should say that the people were very surprised with your decision. Happy, but surprised.”

“Jon was, too,” Daenerys answered with a sad smile. “But I thought only of your happiness when I did it. Of what you’ve wanted from me since we first met.”

Sansa couldn’t stop the shudder that moved through her, reminded of how she’d been willing to kill a queen in order to win the North. She had killed Daenerys’s love for her instead.

_And yet she is here._

“On behalf of the North, I want to express our deepest gratitude. We were yours and you freed us. Your generosity and leadership will never be forgotten.”

“You were never mine,” Daenerys whispered, her lips pursing tightly.

Sansa took a deep breath and turned away, pretending not to see Daenerys’s struggle to maintain her mask, pretending that those words hadn’t cut her. Then she thought of Jon. She had to know, even if it broke this peace between them to address it.

“Did you tell Jon?”

Without hesitating, Daenerys replied, “No. And I will never tell him. He loves you both so much, it is better that he not know, that it stay between us and Tyrion.”

“Tyrion knows? When… why did you tell him?” Sansa turned back to Daenerys, panicked. _He never said anything…_

“I told him before I left, when I told him he would no longer be my Hand. I’d realized that Tyrion is the type of man who would defy everyone, his queen and his duty, to protect those he loves. I wanted him to know so that he would protect you, even from me. You deserve a husband like that, Sansa.” Daenerys looked down, seemingly overcome with emotion.

Sansa closed her eyes. When she opened them she saw tears in Daenerys’s eyes.

“Do you forgive me, Daenerys?” Sansa whispered.

There was a long pause before Daenerys spoke as she looked into Sansa’s eyes. She looked torn over what to say, as if afraid of the words that might spill out. Sansa knew that feeling.

“I’ve given you your heart’s desire without punishment. Isn’t that clear enough?” The words were dismissive but the storm in Daenerys’s eyes said otherwise. Sansa began to realize what that storm meant.

Sansa walked closer to Daenerys until she was right in front of her. They were close enough to touch but they maintained their regal aspect with hands clasped in front of them, though Sansa’s hands began to itch to reach out for Daenerys’s.

Measuring her words carefully, Sansa said, “I must hear you say it. Surely you understand I cannot assume anything. Do you?”

By themselves, her words would be considered a challenge but the quaver in her voice, the need that was in her eyes, she wasn’t referring to forgiveness; there was only one thing her heart wanted to know and they both knew it.

“Do you, Daenerys?” Sansa asked again, this time in a whisper, closing her eyes in fear and anticipation.

The warmth that was close to her face told her Daenerys had raised a hand to her cheek but hadn’t closed the distance. Sansa’s brow furrowed, tempted to turn into the hand, wanting this contact. But the warmth went away and she knew Daenerys had lowered her hand. Sansa opened her eyes and saw that Daenerys had stepped back and was looking down.

“I do,” Daenerys said finally, in a voice barely above a whisper.

The silence felt like thunder in Sansa’s ears, the tension between them palpable. _She still loves me_. And Sansa could only think about the words she herself had left unsaid. If Sansa said them now, what would happen? Would she ruin everything? Daenerys was here, which meant that at least they could try to keep a friendship between them, and it felt so fragile, like something that could break if she said too much. But Sansa didn’t want Daenerys to continue believing it had all been one-sided. Maybe she could tell her in a different way.

Sansa stepped away and went to her chest. She noticed Daenerys blink a few times and straighten her posture, as if believing Sansa was ignoring what Daenerys just admitted. Sansa hoped her gift would tell her otherwise. Opening the chest, Sansa removed a grey dress. She walked over and handed it to Daenerys.

“I finished this a couple of weeks ago. I was going to send this with Tyrion to give to you but I forgot. Or rather, I wasn’t ready to let it go,” Sansa said shyly.

“Sansa, it’s beautiful! Thank you!” Daenerys exclaimed, holding the dress up to examine the embroidered red dragon coming down over the left shoulder, as if bursting out of a storm cloud, accented by silver thread to sharpen the lines of the dragon’s head over the chest. It was the design they’d agreed upon all those weeks ago.

“Why wouldn’t you be ready to let it go? You are far too tall for this dress,” laughed Daenerys.

Sansa smiled, enjoying Daenerys’s laughter and their easiness with each other. It was almost like it was before. Her breath caught as she braced herself for what Daenerys would see next.

“Look inside, underneath the dragon.”

Daenerys opened the top of the dress to look at the backside of the dragon design. There was a lining beneath the bodice to protect the thread of the pattern but one edge of it was loose enough to move aside. Sansa carefully watched Daenerys’s expression as she peered underneath the fabric. She couldn’t stop her blush when she saw Daenerys’s face fill with shock and emotion, her eyes shining with tears as she looked back up at Sansa.

Sansa slowly stepped closer to stand beside Daenerys and reached a hand for the dress and Daenerys silently passed it over. She looked again at the small design she’d hidden. It was a red wolf’s head, not overly filled in but it was clear enough for anyone that was able to view it, positioned so that it would lie over Daenerys’s heart when worn.

“If you look closer, you’ll see a few strands of hair stitched in with the red thread,” said Sansa softly, trying to stay calm in the tempest of emotion filling her heart. Her fingers traced the design before covering it again with the fabric, and looked up at Daenerys.

“I saw,” whispered Daenerys, her eyes moving over Sansa’s hair.

Sansa gave a small smile and looked back down at the dress in her hands. When she’d finished it, she thought Daenerys despised her and didn’t know if it would be appropriate to send along with Tyrion. But she was grateful now to be able to give it to Daenerys in person, to see her face when she saw what she’d hidden. Sansa gently handed the dress back over to Daenerys, who looked to be trying to compose herself but she couldn’t seem to blink the tears back and she had to wipe her eyes with one hand before speaking. Sansa longed to hold her in this moment, this moment that she’d revealed the true depth of her feelings.

“I’m going to miss you, Sansa of House Stark, Queen in the North. We won’t see each other again. Jon will visit, of course, and if there are any reasons you need to come to King’s Landing, like meeting your niece, I will make my apologies about needing to see to my responsibilities elsewhere in the realm. I came here to say goodbye.”

For the longest time, Sansa could only blink and twist her hands together.

“You came all this way to say goodbye.” Sansa could barely speak the words, and it came out as more of a statement than a question.

“I didn’t like how we parted last time, your Grace,” continued Daenerys, speaking quickly and without emotion. “There was much hurt and anger and now that you’re the queen of a large, neighboring kingdom, as well as my soon-to-be sister, I wanted to make sure relations between our lands could remain civil.”

Daenerys walked over to the door.

“I’ll be leaving in the morning, so don’t feel pressed to arrange a formal farewell. I know we’ll have to see each other in the morning for appearances’ sake but let’s just say our goodbyes here.”

Sansa walked closer and stared into Daenerys’s eyes. _Won’t see each other again? Goodbye? I don’t understand, she said she forgave me, that she still loves me. Didn’t she?_

After the way they parted before, Sansa had been fairly confident Daenerys wouldn’t want to see her again, and after the North was freed that fair confidence became a certainty and she had tried to make her peace with that, but now that Daenerys was actually saying it in person, Sansa felt like she’d been cleaved in two. Did Daenerys not understand what Sansa had just revealed with the dress? Why was she doing this? Sansa was shocked and then she was furious. Grasping the door’s latch, she quickly opened it.

“Goodbye, your Grace. I hope you have safe travels back to King’s Landing,” Sansa said sternly, trying to take even breaths to prevent her inner tremors from turning to shaking rage. To see her, to feel that closeness, only for it to be taken away again, to have to go through this heartbreak again… She now wished Daenerys hadn’t come at all.

If Daenerys had been surprised by Sansa’s angry response, she didn’t show it. She just slowly nodded and reached for Sansa’s hand, their first contact in weeks, giving it a brief squeeze before letting go and walking out.

Sansa watched her for a moment and then closed her door. Her fury quickly turned to anguish. She looked down at her hand, the one Daenerys had squeezed, and began to cry.

She paced and fumed in her bedchamber for nearly an hour. It was pointless to try to sleep, not while Daenerys was one level below her, not when she knew that she would never be satisfied with how the conversation had ended, with how she had reacted. _Why would she come all this way just for that?_

Daenerys had been right about the torture that came with pretending what was between them never happened. And Tyrion was right about Sansa needing a goodbye that gave some sort of resolution to her feelings. Cautious wording and hidden embroidery were not enough and she’d been an idiot to give her the dress without saying more. Sansa wanted to confess her love, to shout it if she had to. If this was to be the last time she would ever see her, then she would rather live out her life knowing Daenerys had that knowledge of Sansa’s heart, that Daenerys would have the memory of her words the way Sansa had the memory of hers.

Sansa walked out to the corridor and to the stair which led down. When she reached Daenerys’s rooms, she saw Podrick was already there and he was alone. _Grey Worm must be in the solar._

Podrick bowed slightly at her as she went to the door. Sansa almost knocked but nervousness overcame her. She took a deep breath, letting her lingering frustration and anger rise up to the surface, and she opened the door unannounced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully that was a less angsty chapter than the previous one though I guess it’s still kind of angsty. Wow, I can’t believe there’s only one chapter left. Thank you so much for all the comments. 
> 
> As for when the last chapter will come, it looks like my plan of finishing up the story before the holiday next week isn’t going to happen. A work deadline has come up and ch 21 won’t be done until around mid-Dec as a result. I do apologize, and I know I left it at another cliffhanger in a doorway, but I think it's better than where my original cut-off was going to be of just before Sansa gives her the dress, right?
> 
> If it looks like I won’t meet that mid-Dec update time, I’ll post a comment on this chapter and let you know.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I listened to Ólafur Arnalds’ Living Room Songs quite a bit while working on this and the previous chapter. I love each song and can picture so many scenes from this fic when I listen to them. If you have the time, listen to it and tell me which song you think best fits this chapter’s love theme. I have my own favorites but I’ll put those in the end notes. :)
> 
> The first segment of the chapter is Dany’s POV, the rest is mixed POV.

Chapter 21

_Sansa loves me_.

This repeated in Daenerys’s mind as she hastily made her way to the rooms below Sansa’s. She and Grey Worm took the stair down and met with one of Sansa’s guards, who said Ser Podrick would be arriving shortly, and that the cot and some food had been placed in the bedchamber’s adjoining solar. Daenerys gave instructions to Grey Worm that he should wait for Podrick and when he arrived, to take advantage of the respite and sleep.

She walked into the bedchamber and saw servants pouring buckets of steaming water into the nearly full bath. Glancing around, she noted the fire in the hearth burning brightly and the varied foods that had been placed on the table. She nodded to herself and appreciated Sansa’s thoughtfulness. Daenerys walked over to the table and poured water into her goblet, then gulped it down.

_Sansa loves me._

Trying to shake these thoughts, Daenerys poured wine into the goblet, then took a piece of bread, dipped it in the wine, and ate it. She also ate a few pieces of dried meat and cheese. For a moment she wondered why she was doing all of this with her right hand but then glanced at her left and saw that it was still clutching that blasted dress.

_It can’t be true_.

It felt disconcerting being back here at Winterfell. The familiarity comforted Daenerys in a way she hadn’t felt since moving into the Red Keep, but being reminded of what she couldn’t have, the scent of Sansa’s bedchamber, all of it tormented her, too. Turning back to the bath, her shoulders sagged in exhaustion. After the servant curtsied and left, she carefully placed the dress on a chair near the bed, where she noticed a nightgown had been provided, and began undressing. It was only when she was reclined in the hot water that she let her eyes drift upward, knowing Sansa was above her. She sighed longingly.

Daenerys’s eyes drifted to the dress, and a flutter again came to her chest at the thought of that red wolf. It had thrown her off balance and made her realize she’d gotten too comfortable in Sansa’s bedchamber, practically flirted… what was she thinking asking questions like that about Tyrion and touching the furs of her bed? Ever since she’d left Winterfell, she had tried to convince herself that whatever she suspected about Sansa’s feelings had been wrong, that Sansa never felt what she did. But it didn’t go away; the memories of their time together would come upon her unexpectedly. Touring the Red Keep and her visits to the city put pictures to some of the places Sansa had spoken about; there were not many since she preferred sharing her memories of Winterfell than those of King’s Landing. It made looking at the Iron Throne difficult, knowing who had sat on it as he tormented Sansa. Daenerys hadn’t given destroying it a second thought.

Jon hadn’t made things any easier. She was only being partly honest when she’d told Sansa he was thriving in rebuilding efforts. It suited him because it kept him busy from thinking about them and their situation. It was why they hadn’t sent out announcements of their betrothal or plans to wed after the coronation in a small, private ceremony. Jon had asked for that privacy and her early suspicions for why were confirmed when one evening several weeks ago he’d told Daenerys he couldn’t have a conventional marriage with her, that he had struggled with the urge to back out but understood the benefits of going through with it. It had been a difficult conversation but she appreciated his honesty. For duty and her protection, he would wed her if that was truly her wish but Jon would not share her bed. And she knew how relieved they both were at this decision. When Daenerys spoke and told him that she understood and that she would be all right with that arrangement, he suddenly tried to convince Daenerys to see Sansa but she refused to hear his arguments. Jon had even yelled at her, saying Sansa loved her but she ran out of the room before he could continue.

She’d run because she desperately wanted his words about Sansa’s love to be true. But Daenerys was too afraid of what she might do if she started talking about Sansa with him or anyone else. She avoided speaking of her with Missandei because her friend, more than anyone other than Sansa, had seen how much in love with Sansa she’d been and knew her heartbreak. And in his letters to her, Tyrion kept any description of Sansa’s activities and well-being vague; she’d assumed it was because he was being loyal to his new queen but Daenerys wondered if he was also trying to spare her feelings. She supposed she could’ve asked Varys but she’d agreed with Tyrion that Varys should keep his spies in the North to a minimum since Sansa was becoming adept at rooting them out and it would not do to begin her reign at odds with the North. Daenerys also felt uncomfortable revealing her own personal interest by approaching Varys, not quite trusting her spymaster, so she let him be. But Daenerys also knew Jon had been corresponding with both Tyrion and Sansa so in the most disinterested way she possibly could, which probably didn’t fool him at all, she would probe for details on how Sansa was doing. Strangely enough, Jon also kept his responses vague but he would have these worried, upsetting expressions after reading Tyrion’s messages before wiping them away, and Daenerys began to worry, too. But Jon never gave up on hinting, subtly and not so subtly, that she should see Sansa.

Daenerys looked up again at the ceiling. _Sansa did look more tired and gaunt than I expected_.

_But still beautiful_.

Daenerys grabbed the soap and washcloth and began washing herself, thinking again over the last week when it had become clear that Daenerys was carrying Jon’s child. She looked down towards her abdomen and rubbed her hands over her stomach. She would begin showing soon enough. Daenerys hadn’t even considered it a possibility until one nausea-filled morning when Missandei had given her a look. Then Daenerys just knew. Her sickness in the mornings, tenderness in her breasts, and she quickly went to Samwell Tarly to confirm it. Daenerys and Jon had not slept together since the night of the farewell feast in Winterfell and she was certain that was when it had happened. Her first thoughts were joyful because she would finally be a mother in the way she’d always wanted. But later at night alone in her bed, she felt sad, and thinking on it she realized that she had agreed to all the secrecy of her wedding to Jon because she also hadn’t truly wanted to go through with it. And now she would have to. The next day, when she’d shared the news with Jon, she could see that same mixture of happiness and sad realization of what this meant. But when Daenerys told him her decision to make him King and share her rule with him, he got quiet. Daenerys knew it was a blow, being King was never what he had wanted. That’s when Jon took her hands in his and gave her a strange look, like he had decided something. Jon simply told her that she had to go see Sansa now. He said nothing more than that and got up and walked out of the room. That had been two days ago.

Jon knew this was what her heart most wanted, to see Sansa again, which is why he pushed her for so long. Daenerys told herself he likely didn’t know all of her reasons for coming, though. She missed her, yes, but she’d realized other things, too. All she’d been doing ever since she left Winterfell was pine for Sansa Stark and it was becoming a distraction. Daenerys had thought she’d finished with it by securing Sansa’s happiness with the North’s independence and that nudge to Tyrion to wed her, which Sansa accepted as she’d predicted she would. But it hadn’t stopped the yearning. Daenerys had left Winterfell in shock and heartbreak but her heart wouldn’t let go. She had to see Sansa again, to say goodbye, to wish her well, to alleviate that worry those looks from Jon had put in her mind, to know that Sansa was going to be happy in her life. _Her life away from me_. And now this dress, that wolf’s head… Daenerys began to wonder if she’d come all the way to Winterfell for still other reasons.

Daenerys closed her eyes. _I’ve said my goodbyes, it’s over_. She had to stick with her plan. It would give Sansa and Tyrion a real chance. She remembered their playfulness with each other, their easiness. Sansa deserved someone to be here with her for all of her days, someone to grow old with, to give her the heirs Sansa had repeatedly told her she wanted. And by staying away, she would never have to endure the pain of seeing them happy together.

After Daenerys finished bathing, she stood up and grabbed a towel. When she’d finished drying herself, she walked to the bed and picked up the nightgown. She finished lacing the ribbons on the front and went to the hearth. The fire was a blaze now and she could feel the room growing warmer. Daenerys grabbed another log and placed it on the fire. Then she knelt down to the fur rug, watching the flames flicker around the new log. In her mind, she imagined an angry Sansa up in her rooms. The fire in those blue eyes when she walked out… Would it be a mistake to go back up and talk with her? Daenerys looked again at the dress and felt the pit in her stomach grow. She could’ve been kinder, could’ve lingered longer to let Sansa’s shock and anger ease. _In her own way, she told me she loved me and I just walked out._

Daenerys gripped a bit of the fur in her hands and took a deep breath and held it, looking up. In the end she released her breath and sank further to the floor. _It’s better this way_. Then Daenerys heard the door open and she turned her head. There she saw a very angry Sansa.

*::::*

Sansa was momentarily flustered at seeing Daenerys in the nightgown, kneeling in front of the hearth. She glanced at the bath tub and saw that she had bathed already. Her anger returned when she saw that Daenerys’s annoyance with her arrival was also mixed with amusement.

Daenerys ignored the flutter in her chest and said in an even voice, “Your Grace has just ruined my very conscious effort to leave your bedchamber after a short visit and spend the rest of the night alone in my rooms. I know my visit will inspire talk and I was trying to save you from rumors.”

“There’s no need, your Grace, the rumors have already settled in around here. Did you really think the nights we shared together went unnoticed? In case you’re curious, my reputation has benefitted and Tyrion is delighted. Northerners were perfectly willing to follow you, they would have barely grumbled because you had truly won them. We would’ve fought for you until the end. But you gave me the North anyway. Tyrion has tried to promote the more generous ones that call you a fair and just queen who gave it as a reward for our loyalty to you but those other rumors still exist about my self-sacrificing willingness to do whatever it took to win the North from you. I am a hero.”

Daenerys paused, considering Sansa’s words, and then quietly said, “I’m sorry if my coming here has added to it. I wonder what they’ll say.”

Sansa scoffed and rolled her eyes at Daenerys. Did she really want to hear the gossip about them? _Then again, it would be a good way to broach the true reason of this visit._

“The oblivious will think you an attentive friend. The worst will say that you demanded another night’s payment for the North’s freedom. The more forgiving will say that in your love for me you needed one last goodbye before we parted forever.”

They looked at one another and Sansa could almost see the truth in Daenerys’s eyes. Daenerys was the first to look away and she stood up.

“I see. Is that all?” Daenerys asked, trying to sound indifferent. “I should probably get some rest before I leave at dawn.” She knew she was provoking Sansa by being dismissive like this and she scolded herself for it. Hadn’t she regretted her earlier dismissiveness of the dress? She turned around and took a few steps towards Sansa as if to usher her out the door.

“That’s the other thing I wanted to ask. Is that safe? Shouldn’t you rest for more than a night?”

“One night will be enough. Grey Worm was prepared to not sleep but thanks to your forethought with Podrick and then Brienne out in the corridor, he will have more than enough rest to make sure I stay on Drogon if I fall asleep on the journey back. There is also the matter of my coronation. Most of my lords and ladies have begun arriving at the Red Keep in preparation. Jon can only do so much to placate them.”

Sansa stared at her, Daenerys fiddling with the ribbon at the front of her nightgown, glancing at the bed. It was a hint for Sansa to leave but it only made her seethe.

“So that’s it? One brief conversation and then you’re gone again. Why did you even come here?” Sansa asked, resolving once and for all to hear the truth.

“I told you.”

“You could’ve said all of that in a letter. You didn’t actually need to come to Winterfell. Why then?”

Daenerys didn’t answer, frustrated by Sansa’s insistence and by the way her heart was racing in the face of this demanding Sansa. Sansa wasn’t going to leave without the truth and she was afraid; afraid to open her heart and be hurt again.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have.”

“But you did.”

“I just wanted…”

“What?”

“I wanted to see you!” Daenerys exclaimed, losing her temper.

“Why?” Sansa asked, stepping closer, challenging Daenerys to lie to her.

Daenerys huffed and looked down. She said nothing, hoping her silence would discourage Sansa.

Sansa’s heart was pounding as she saw Daenerys’s fear, her wish for Sansa to stop. But she couldn’t stop, not if this was the last face to face conversation they were to ever have.

Looking up into Sansa’s eyes, Daenerys could see Sansa’s need for this. It was the same need she’d had when she was last here, when Daenerys had demanded more than facts about Sansa’s betrayal, when she had needed to know Sansa’s true feelings.

“Isn’t this a dangerous conversation to have given what was already said up in your rooms?” Daenerys asked, looking over at the grey dress then back down, her hands clenched into fists.

Sansa slowly took another step closer and whispered, “But isn’t this conversation partly why you’re here?”

Daenerys closed her eyes and bit back a sob, Sansa’s words hitting true.

“And it’s why I’m here in this room. Do you think that was easy for me when you left? I barely held on. I couldn’t tell you how afraid I was for you. How much you meant to me and still mean to me.”

Daenerys looked up at her then, surprised to hear so much emotion coming from Sansa.

“I didn’t want to be queen, Daenerys,” Sansa continued, turning away to say these words because she knew they might sound hurtful. “When I was younger, yes, childish dreams of being a queen at a king’s side. My desire for the North was based mostly on a fear of being subjugated and when I got to know you, I was no longer afraid of your rule. It felt so freeing to trust you, to concede the North to you, to not have to worry about my obsessive need to control everything in my life because I felt scared that I would be hurt otherwise. I didn’t know choosing you was going to feel like that but it did. You truly have no idea how much I believed in you. And I can’t give the North back to you because that will lead to war. But I hate it, Daenerys. I didn’t realize how much until just now but I do. I feel trapped, on a path not of my choosing. I’m obligated to do it but… I just wish you had asked me.” _And I wish Bran had taken the crown when I offered it to him_, she thought.

Sansa turned back to look at Daenerys and it was Daenerys’s turn to look away.

“I had no idea…” Daenerys said, wondering how detailed Tyrion had been in those letters to Jon.

“I’m not saying I would’ve said no. I wasn’t the only one who thought the North needed its independence and I would not have let my personal feelings about a crown cloud such a decision. The people are happy and we will thrive as best as we can. But I could’ve discussed my hesitance with you.”

Sansa sighed deeply and went to the table and sat down.

“I’m not telling you this because I want you to feel guilty. I’m just tired of not saying the things I feel,” Sansa said, then looked up. “Like what happened up there, when I let my anger cover my hurt. I miss sharing these things with you, you’re the only one I know who would understand.”

“You can write to me, we can still write…” Daenerys trailed off, not able to counter the rawness in Sansa’s words. _Control yourself, Daenerys_, she admonished, taking several steadying breaths.

“And pretend that we aren’t what we are to each other?” Sansa asked softly, looking down at her hands on the table. Diplomatic letters, the false friendliness between rulers, all of that would most definitely happen but a little part of her would die every time. Her love for Daenerys would always want more.

Daenerys felt angry again. Why hadn’t Sansa been like this before she left? Why hadn’t she been forthcoming with her feelings when Daenerys begged her to be? She gave a hard look at Sansa and went to the other chair that was beside Sansa. She sat down.

“Did any part of your plan include seduction?” Daenerys asked. It was an abrupt change in subject but if they were going to talk, they had to talk about everything.

Sansa looked up, startled. At first she felt angry that Daenerys could even ask that but then she remembered how she had held back during that confrontation over her betrayal. She had tried to hide much of what she felt and her inner thinking from Daenerys. Sansa released a long breath, understanding that Daenerys needed resolution, too.

“No,” Sansa replied. And she stared back at Daenerys to make sure she was believed. When she saw the relief in Daenerys’s eyes, she continued. “The bait was friendship and my support, not… me. But I did think of it when I finally recognized the attraction between us. I just couldn’t do that to you.”

“Because you did not think yourself capable or because you didn’t want to?”

“I didn’t want to, or maybe both. I thought I had learned control, how to hide my emotions. And you tore down all my protections as if they were nothing. I could not have pretended something like that with you if I tried. And after that first kiss, I was so tired of lies and manipulations. I wanted to support you in every way I could. But before that, everything was so confusing. That first visit to Winter town, remember? That’s what I thought it would be like. Friendly conversation, shared stories, smiles and laughter. I hadn’t expected you to be so open, so… everything you turned out to be.”

Daenerys nodded. Those early days of resistance were full of surprises for the both of them. She wordlessly took another piece of bread, softly chewing while she waited for Sansa to continue.

“You are already aware of my initial fears and anger with Jon at placing his trust in you so quickly. I’d known and trusted a beautiful queen before. Then when you arrived at Winterfell I felt something else that I pushed away and forgot about. It wasn’t until these last weeks that I realized what it had been.”

“What?”

“A pull to you. So small I didn’t even recognize it and I covered it up with disdain and haughtiness.”

Chuckling, Daenerys said, “You were quite haughty. And quite beautiful.”

“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Daenerys.”

Daenerys felt the blush grow on her cheeks and she looked down at the food. “And you felt a pull to me?”

“I did. And I instantly distrusted it, feeling it was all part of your act, how you got people to follow you. I stayed away, I didn’t want to know you. When you came to me in the library, the way you behaved and spoke, I felt a softening and it surprised me how quickly that happened. I couldn’t have that, you became even more dangerous in my eyes, and I provoked you with my question on the North. I had to remind you and myself that I couldn’t trust you.”

“I was furious at you,” Daenerys murmured, thinking back to that time. If she’d been more patient, she might’ve gotten Sansa on her side much more quickly.

“I know. I meant you to be.”

“But then your plot,” said Daenerys, clenching her teeth.

“Yes.”

“And everything after.”

Sansa sighed. “Yes. I hate myself for committing to that plan, at what I’d become. I like to think I would’ve stopped it even if we hadn’t grown close but I don’t know. And I have to live with that.”

Daenerys looked at Sansa, seeing her regret and remorse. “It was a terrible thing but it did lead you to me. And I wouldn’t trade those weeks with you for anything.”

“You are far too forgiving,” Sansa said with a sigh, leaning back in her chair and turning towards the fire.

“I would do anything for you,” Daenerys answered simply.

Sansa turned back to Daenerys and looked her in the eyes. “Anything except see me again.”

Daenerys didn’t answer. Instead she admired how fierce Sansa looked in that moment. They had never talked like this with one another before. For all of their shared confidences, for as close as they’d become, Sansa had always skirted around their feelings. And as much as Daenerys had wanted to talk about it, at the same time she had not pushed as hard as she could have. Not until that last night when Sansa had revealed her near crime. She stood up and walked to the hearth, staring at the flame.

“I didn’t return to Westeros expecting to find love, Sansa. I left behind someone with whom I passed the time, coming here with the sole purpose of taking the throne, and with the advice that I would have to wed some lord to solidify my power and appease those I had conquered. Then I met your brother. I came to Winterfell in love and when he pushed me away, I floundered in my anger at him and at the rest of the North. I felt alone and lost. Then you came to me.”

Sansa reached for Daenerys’s goblet of wine, remembering how they had shared a goblet in her rooms that first night together. She took a sip before putting it back down on the table, and then said, “So I was a distraction for you after all.”

“At first, yes. But it was a distraction with a purpose. Just as you had a purpose. Getting to know your people, getting them to know me, you knew I wanted that and I let you take advantage. You were also a puzzle to me. When I met you I could see that we could get along, we had much in common, but you defied me so vehemently and I couldn’t understand. Then you put yourself in my path and I became determined to do so. The friendship progressed so swiftly, I felt myself in a whirlwind of attraction and suspicion. I wondered how this could be happening. The Lady of Winterfell looking at me the way she does, flirting with me, those lingering touches. Your reluctance, how I could so easily make you blush, I was entranced. And then it became more. You became more to me.”

“It was the same for me. I didn’t understand; I couldn’t help the feelings that grew. Even after I stopped my plot, I wanted to spend every moment with you. It was all so new and wonderful and frightening. But we were who we were, our duty, I…” Sansa stopped. They both knew she had been the one who rejected Daenerys in the end. “And then I confessed.”

Daenerys turned to look at Sansa, still sitting at the table. She felt the sting in her eyes.

“I felt like an idiot for falling for two Starks and being rejected by each of them in turn. One of whom I had the brief suspicion would betray me, and the other who actually did.” Daenerys turned back to the fire, letting her tears fall silently.

Sansa’s stomach churned in guilt. She stood up and walked over to Daenerys and placed a hand on her shoulder. Daenerys flinched but she did not pull away.

“But you’ve forgiven me?”

“I have,” replied Daenerys, nodding. “I knew you were sorry and you could’ve kept this a secret from me forever. But you didn’t. You, who had everything to lose by being honest with me, who could’ve just rejected my declaration without inspiring my wrath, you gave me a choice. And as angry as I was, my other feelings for you remained.”

“If you’ve forgiven me, and we mean so much to each other, then why is this goodbye?”

The lump in Sansa’s throat grew larger as she waited for Daenerys’s reply. Daenerys turned around and Sansa saw her tears. She didn’t try to stop the hand that reached for Daenerys’s cheek to wipe them away. Her thumb grazed over Daenerys’s lips and she heard herself release a strangled sob as she threw her arms around Daenerys in a tight embrace. _Decorum and duty be damned_.

“Why?” Sansa cried, weeping that Daenerys’s arms were still not touching her, clutching the smaller woman to her as if she would disappear at any moment.

“It’ll hurt too much… I’ll always want… Sansa, please understand… I have to move forward, I have to,” Daenerys said into her neck, not able to stop her tears or her stuttered breathing. She could no longer resist and she allowed tentative arms to wrap around Sansa, her heart leaping in her chest at feeling Sansa’s warmth once more. And tentative arms turned into desperate arms, pulling Sansa to her as if it were the last time.

In a way, Sansa did understand. She had seen how jealous Daenerys had been those times she came upon her and Tyrion speaking together. Sansa would struggle, too, at seeing Daenerys again and having to suppress her feelings. But to truly never see each other again, it felt wrong, it felt like a nightmare.

Sansa breathed in her scent and pulled Daenerys’s hair to her lips. She pressed her cheek against Daenerys’s ear and pulled back slightly so that her lips tugged gently on an earlobe.

Daenerys gasped in surprise.

“What are you doing, Sansa?” Daenerys asked, her voice quaking with want.

“I’m saying goodbye,” answered Sansa, her lips trailing kisses down her jawline towards Daenerys’s chin. “And I should say the words I was too scared to admit to you. I want to say them and I want to show you I mean them.”

“What words?” breathed Daenerys, her body trembling against her kisses.

Sansa brought her hands up to cup Daenerys’s face and gently kissed her lips then she whispered, “I love you. I love you.” And in her mind, Sansa repeated it after every kiss, every touch.

Daenerys melted at those words and Sansa’s kisses. Her fingers pressed into Sansa’s back.

Sansa didn’t wait for a reply and continued pressing kisses against her neck, finally earning gasps and sighs as Daenerys tilted her head so that Sansa could reach under her chin.

Daenerys whispered, “Are you sure, Sansa? Tyrion will know.”

Sansa stopped kissing her neck but still held her close.

“He will understand. What about Jon? Does he know you’re here?”

“It was he that suggested I come see you. He actually suggested it weeks ago but I wasn’t sure. After we found out about the child, he practically insisted. You were right; I could’ve written a letter. But I just had to see you one last time. I had to know it wasn’t just me, that I wasn’t alone in this…” Daenerys closed her eyes, her heart still reeling over Sansa’s declaration.

“I’m sorry I waited so long to tell you. I was a fool, I had thought it was just me that felt this way, and then when you told me, when you needed me most in your pain at my betrayal, I tried to hide what I felt. I didn’t want you to think I was using it to stop my punishment, but also I was afraid… you’d said so many things and…”

Daenerys thought back to that night. She’d been desperate; if Sansa had said then what she felt Daenerys likely wouldn’t have left without doing more to convince Sansa to come with her, or even order her to do so.

Sansa sighed against Daenerys’s neck and felt Daenerys tighten her embrace. She’d nearly said more about ensuring Daenerys’s future with Jon but even now Sansa worried about doing something that prevented the marriage alliance and Jon’s happiness. Sansa also tried not to think about how Daenerys had repeated her intent for this to be the last time they’d see each other. Then she thought of what Daenerys had said about Jon.

“They are either fools or the best men we will ever know,” whispered Sansa.

“This is why it has to end. You would be divided. You deserve a true happiness with him,” Daenerys whispered. As much as it pained Daenerys, she knew Sansa loved Tyrion, too, and her continued involvement with Sansa would only hurt them. It had to be a clean ending.

“And you do, too?” Sansa tried not to let her agony at their parting enter her words. She would do as Daenerys wished because she wanted Jon and Daenerys to be happy together, together with their child.

Daenerys nodded softly against her shoulder, and lied. “Yes… I do, too.”

She lied for Sansa’s benefit; she didn’t want Sansa to know that she and Jon were no longer in love. Daenerys pulled back to stare at her then pulled Sansa’s face down towards her own. Their foreheads touched and Daenerys took deep breaths, steadying herself, unwilling to push Sansa into anything she would regret.

The pain in Sansa’s heart became unbearable.

Sansa kissed her then. Harsh, selfish, determined. Daenerys hesitated at first but then returned her kiss with equal force.

She pulled away and said, “Tonight you’re here and we’re in love. I love you. I love you, Daenerys.”

Sansa wanted to keep saying it, as often as she could until she couldn’t breathe, to make up for all the times she held back and stayed silent, for all the times in the future when she wouldn’t get to. She wanted to bathe Daenerys in her love.

Daenerys pulled her into another kiss while at the same time untying the rope on Sansa’s robe, pulling it off her. It felt wonderful, her softness, her taste. Daenerys’s hands reached for the laces of Sansa’s nightgown, undoing them and slowly pulling the gown down over her shoulders. Before letting the nightgown drop, Daenerys broke the kiss and turned Sansa around, pressing hot kisses against her back as her hands reached around to cup Sansa’s breasts.

“I have wanted to do this ever since you bared yourself to me. I wanted so much to pull down that dress,” whispered Daenerys between kisses.

“I wanted it, too. I was just about to ask when you pulled your hand away. I wish I had spoken. I wish we had made love every night you were here at Winterfell.”

Sansa turned around and let the nightgown fall. Daenerys kissed her neck and trailed kisses down her chest and to her stomach, pulling off Sansa’s smallclothes as she went. Sansa felt like she could die of pleasure right then and they’d only just started. When Sansa stood naked, Daenerys stood up to look at her, panting in her need. Sansa smiled and she kissed Daenerys again, their tongues pressing together, until Sansa pulled Daenerys down to their knees on the fur. She then surprised Daenerys by pushing her down onto her back. Daenerys was still in her nightgown and Sansa slowly began undoing the laces on the front.

Daenerys looked up at her with a soft smile. But Sansa’s fingers stilled when she noticed Daenerys’s sad eyes. Sansa leaned forward to take Daenerys’s lips in a gentle kiss and pulled back again.

“If you don’t feel the same… if you wish to stop…” said Sansa. She realized Daenerys hadn’t shared her own words of love and her expression looked like hesitance.

Daenerys answered by pushing Sansa onto her back and then she straddled her, pressing a searing kiss on her lips before whispering, “It’s not that, I was just thinking about the morning. But I do want this, Sansa. I want you.”

Before Sansa could answer, Daenerys sat up and started to say more but Sansa rose up quickly and embraced her. Then Sansa lowered her hands to find the bottom hem of Daenerys’s nightgown, lifting up. Daenerys’s eyes darted down to her hands and she swallowed her words. Looking up, she gave a quick nod and adjusted herself, allowing Sansa to lift the gown all the way off. She wasn’t wearing smallclothes and they both gasped at the new sensation of being naked against each other.

Sansa sighed. She knew it was too much to ask for Daenerys to not think about what might’ve been and what will be. Those thoughts swirled in her mind, too, but she forced herself to put this moment at the forefront. Her hands explored Daenerys’s skin, fingers tracing lazy trails down her neck, over her breasts and nipples and down her backside, all the while whispering, “Just focus on me, how this feels. I love you completely and utterly.”

Daenerys wanted to cry with joy as she felt Sansa’s feather-light kisses press along her neck, hands lightly caressing her breasts. She rolled her hips against Sansa, enjoying this closeness, the warmth of her skin. At Sansa’s light moan, she placed her hands on the sides of Sansa’s face and kissed her harshly. But Sansa broke away, biting down her neck.

“Is the neckline on your coronation dress high?” asked Sansa, teeth nipping on the soft spot between her shoulder and neck.

Daenerys chuckled. “I can make adjustments.”

Sansa smiled into Daenerys’s neck, allowing herself to suck a bit longer on her soft skin, and Daenerys shuddered against her.

“Sansa,” breathed Daenerys, eyes closed. “Only part of me regrets not doing this from the start. The conversations we had…” Daenerys’s breath hitched, finding it harder to form the words but she had to say them. She had to make sure Sansa knew how she felt and she opened her eyes, looking straight into Sansa’s. “The moments we shared, getting to know one another… I will treasure them always because it was in those moments we fell in love. I love you. You are my love.”

Sansa closed her eyes as Daenerys whispered those last words, trying to fight against the relieved tears that wanted to escape. Her body needed Daenerys closer. Sansa wrapped her left arm around Daenerys’s waist and used her right hand to pull Daenerys’s face towards her, pressing a deep kiss against her lips. Lips parted in hunger until they were both panting into each other’s mouths. Daenerys was now rolling her hips against Sansa at a quicker pace, and Sansa could feel her wetness and knew that Daenerys was seeking more pressure. She gazed at Daenerys’s face and saw how her eyes were clenched shut, and then she dragged her right hand down Daenerys’s neck, over her breasts, dropping it until she slid her hand between them and pressed a finger against her.

Daenerys’s eyes flew open at the same moment a moan escaped.

“Is this…?” asked Sansa, unsure.

“Yes,” answered Daenerys quickly. She felt Sansa immediately enter her and Daenerys clutched onto Sansa’s back, biting back a whimper.

It was as if Sansa was in a dream. The heat she felt, the wetness against her hand, her heart was racing so fast that Sansa felt lightheaded, as if she were becoming intoxicated. Sansa tried to focus on how Daenerys felt but became even more lost as Daenerys bit on her shoulder and muttered ‘more’. She answered by inserting another finger. And Sansa could feel how the sensation rippled through Daenerys’s body, how it emanated in heat and lust and Sansa was drowning in it, so hot she felt like she was on fire.

Daenerys pulled back and Sansa could see her eyes, could see how dark they were, and could tell that Daenerys was as lost in this as she was. And it was more passionate and more tender than it was the last time they were like this on that last night, back when Sansa was trying to hold back, when Daenerys had to peel away her walls one by one with every kiss and touch until the secret love of her heart was practically exposed in tears. But she didn’t have to hold back now.

Sansa gasped as Daenerys rolled hard against her, in love with every moment of this. Summoning her focus, Sansa straightened her gaze onto Daenerys and moved her left hand up to the back of Daenerys’s neck. Inserting a third finger, she watched Daenerys begin to come apart against her with every thrust, her moans and cries getting louder and more erratic.

She was getting closer, the burn in her thighs increasing, and Daenerys tried to keep her eyes on Sansa’s face. Daenerys had never seen anything more beautiful and she wanted this moment to last forever. There was a look of rapture in Sansa’s eyes. She saw the sweat on Sansa’s brow and felt her own sweat on her chest and back. Her hands moved from Sansa’s shoulders to her face, her thumbs sweeping over Sansa’s mouth. She pressed their foreheads together and tried to reach for her lips but then she felt Sansa press deeper into her, thrusting hard, and Daenerys pulled back in surprise. The rapture in Sansa’s eyes was replaced by possessiveness and Daenerys felt a surge of arousal. Feeling herself taken by a lust-filled Sansa made her shake in desire and she let go of her restraint, trusting in her lover to lead the rest of the way. It wasn’t long until Daenerys jolted upward and stiffened against Sansa, her release suddenly upon her, but Sansa didn’t stop her movements which only strengthened the waves of Daenerys’s pleasure, her cries for Sansa muffled by Sansa’s kisses.

Daenerys collapsed against her, pushing Sansa back down to the fur rug, softly whispering, “Sansa, Sansa...” Daenerys couldn’t stop her voice from cracking and she whimpered softly into Sansa’s neck as she tried to catch her breath, feeling overcome with her love and with the thought of only having this one night together.

Sansa gently rubbed Daenerys’s back and whispered soothing sounds until Daenerys began pressing gentle kisses on Sansa’s neck before moving off Sansa onto her left side, her eyes full of emotion, and Sansa loved how open Daenerys’s expression was, how neither of them had to hide anymore. It was like they truly belonged together now and Sansa leaned forward to nibble on Daenerys’s lower lip. Daenerys returned her kisses with soft nibbles of her own, a hand on Sansa’s neck which slowly made its way down to her lower back, until Sansa could feel her own need and arousal grow more demanding.

When Daenerys felt Sansa’s hands begin pulling against her, she deepened their kisses and let her right hand graze over Sansa’s breasts. Sansa arched into it and Daenerys was reminded of that night she had to restrain herself while Sansa touched herself. But now Daenerys could do all the touching and tasting she wanted.

She rolled one hardened nipple between her fingers before doing the same to the other. Sansa had her right arm wrapped Daenerys’s back, her left gripping the fur beneath her.

Sansa moaned into Daenerys’s mouth, and Daenerys slowly caressed her breasts again before moving her hand lower. She smiled at Sansa’s frown when instead of moving between Sansa’s legs, Daenerys skipped to her thigh. Daenerys leaned in for another long kiss as her hand pinched and kneaded her thighs, creeping upwards bit by bit until Sansa was whimpering in impatience.

As soon as the back of Daenerys’s hand grazed her wetness, Sansa pulled her mouth away and gasped. Before she could even take another breath, Daenerys quickly pressed two fingers into her. Sansa yelled out and dug her right hand tightly into Daenerys’s back, but Daenerys held still. She was about to ask if Sansa was all right when Sansa’s left hand gripped her upper arm and she began softly pushing herself against Daenerys’s hand. It took Daenerys’s breath away how Sansa gave of herself, how much trust she was giving to her, and Daenerys’s heart was pounding so loud she could barely hear her own breathing.

Sansa could barely form thoughts, the sensation of Daenerys inside her filling her and the pressure of her hand when it touched exactly where she needed it to making her pulse in pleasure with every thrust. Daenerys was strong, she could feel it, and her arousal made her hum with uncontrollable need.

“You are so beautiful,” Daenerys whispered, watching how Sansa moved against her hand, how her face was twisted in pleasure and concentration. She began slowly thrusting into her and Sansa let go of her arm, her hand going back to gripping the furs. Daenerys took her time, relishing every movement Sansa’s body made in response, becoming dizzy in Sansa’s heat.

“Keep going,” Sansa whispered in reply, leaning up to kiss her.

Daenerys smiled and she increased the pace until Sansa was taut with need. But then she would slow down again and kiss her hard on the mouth to distract her. She knew she was teasing her, bringing her to the edge only to pull away at the last moment, but she wanted to make it last. She wanted to bring this winter queen to her knees.

“Daenerys, please,” Sansa begged. She was exhausted, straining for release. It would’ve been painful if it also didn’t feel so good. Daenerys suckled on her neck and then breast, a bite earning a loud moan from Sansa.

“Please what?” asked Daenerys innocently, like she wasn’t slowly fucking Sansa senseless.

“Please finish me, please… I need…”

“No, that’s not what I want to hear, sweet Sansa.” Daenerys raised herself so that her face hovered over that of Sansa’s.

“Bend the knee,” Daenerys whispered and at the same time curled her fingers inside Sansa.

The shock of her words and the pleasure from her fingers flustered Sansa and she could barely bite out, “What?!”

Daenerys laughed softly and said, “Don’t worry, the North is yours. But here on these furs you are mine. I want to hear you say what you’ve never actually called me directly.”

As if to emphasize her point, Daenerys increased her hand’s movements, going faster and harder than she did before. Sansa turned her head into the furs, an open-mouthed smile on her face in spite of the harsh gasps for air she made, and Daenerys could tell Sansa understood her game. But deep down, she knew part of it wasn’t a game; that she felt a jealous, selfish need to claim Sansa. The song in her heart and the fire in her blood demanded it. And she saw Sansa briefly debate whether to tease back and fight it, her instinct to maintain control trying to assert itself. Part of Daenerys hoped that she would, the flare of her arousal ready to see a defiant Sansa beneath her, but when Sansa turned back to look at her, the adoration filling those eyes that made Daenerys want to weep in thankfulness, she knew that Sansa would surrender.

“Daenerys…” Sansa groaned, shutting her eyes again, every sense in her body focused on Daenerys’s hand, climbing higher and higher to her release. “I am yours.”

“More,” Daenerys commanded.

“You are mine… you are my… oh… please…” Sansa lost the words, she was almost there. She lifted her head and tried to reach Daenerys’s lips. If Daenerys stopped now she would scream. The glint in Daenerys’s eyes told Sansa she was tempted to deny her and Sansa widened her eyes, pleading for mercy.

“What am I, Sansa?” Daenerys encouraged, her lips just above Sansa’s mouth, darting a tongue to lick her lower lip.

“My Queen, you are my queen!” Sansa answered with a yell, her pleasure knocking her back down into the furs. She smiled and sobbed, a few tears falling from her eyes, as she crested through her release.

Daenerys slowed her pace, watching the pleasure course through Sansa, giving her all the love and tenderness that Sansa deserved. She kissed her softly on the lips and then trailed soft, reverent kisses down Sansa’s body, whispering once she reached her inner thigh, “And you are my Queen. Always.”

*::::*

They later moved to the bed under the furs, lying on their sides staring at each other while their fingers danced and played softly together. Then Sansa pulled her hand away to touch the tiny moles on Daenerys’s face, leaning forward to kiss them. Her fingers moved down to the mole on Daenerys’s left shoulder and leaned forward to kiss there and then brushed back the furs and dragged her mouth to every mark she could see across her chest. The feel of her skin, the weight of her breasts, the muscle of her thighs, Sansa tried to memorize it all but knew she would fail.

“I don’t want to forget,” Sansa breathed, glancing helplessly all over her body, unable to prevent the tremor in her voice.

“Shhh, it’s all right. It’s all right for our memories to blur. We’ll remember our love,” whispered Daenerys. Her hand reached for Sansa’s.

“What else will you remember?” Sansa asked softly, lying back down beside Daenerys.

“I’ll remember your eyes, the piercing blue of them. Your stare would always leave me breathless,” Daenerys answered. Her hand reached for Sansa’s hair. “The fire of your hair, how it looked that day of the ride through the Wolfswood. Do you still ride?”

“As often as I can. It’s about the only time I feel most in control of my day.”

“I can understand. I feel free and invincible on Drogon, like nothing can stop me.”

“Well, he is a dragon after all. Very little _can_ stop him,” laughed Sansa. Then Sansa’s hand reached for Daenerys’s face. “I’m going to remember how your eyes crinkle when you smile, your real smile.”

“Your laugh. It was always so hard-earned,” Daenerys said with a smile.

“Your lips. So full and soft. The first time I kissed you, I was so surprised how soft they were.”

They lay there smiling at each other thinking of other memories. Daenerys could name so many and she became sad that there wouldn’t be more.

Sansa didn’t know why she went from warm memories to looking at Daenerys’s abdomen but she was suddenly staring, thinking about the child, a daughter that wasn’t hers. Rationally, Sansa knew such a thing was impossible but the thought that she and Daenerys could have raised a child together suddenly came to her and she found it hard to breathe knowing that Jon was going to experience it instead. _Have they been together like this in King’s Landing?_

Daenerys saw the look on Sansa’s face, like she wanted to ask something. She took Sansa’s hand and placed it over her stomach and whispered, “Just ask me what you want to know, Sansa.”

Sansa’s brow furrowed. She was worried that it was inappropriate, that she had no right to ask. Daenerys gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and Sansa nodded, looking into her eyes.

“Have the two of you…?”

“No,” Daenerys responded quietly, knowing before Sansa was done with her question what she wanted to know.

“So the night of the farewell feast?”

Daenerys took a deep breath, nodded, and said, “Yes.” The only other time she’d seen jealousy in Sansa over Jon was the morning after that feast, in her solar when they had desperately kissed through their tears. Sansa had been so crushed she could barely look at her. Daenerys could see similar jealousy in Sansa now, along with heartache. She moved forward to press a gentle kiss on Sansa’s lips, and then pulled back. It was not an apology, for she couldn’t truly regret it now given the result of that night growing inside her. But she understood why it would affect Sansa in this way. Just imagining Sansa carrying Tyrion’s child brought a great, mind-numbing rage to her own heart. She took another deep breath, knowing she’d said too much. Sansa was too close to finding out the truth of her arrangement with Jon.

Sansa could feel a different question in the back of her mind. There was something like fear in Daenerys’s eyes, like she was afraid of what else Sansa would want to know.

“Jon is happy about this, isn’t he?”

Daenerys blinked out of her thoughts, wondering if her face had betrayed what she’d been thinking.

“Of course. It’s still a bit of a shock, though. I only found out three days ago and told him the following day.”

Sansa nodded and looked away. She didn’t really want to know what Jon said. She was sure he had been overjoyed with the news; that not only would he get to spend the rest of his life with the woman he loved, he would also be a father.

And Sansa lunged at her with a kiss, not wanting to think any more of a future with only these memories to sustain her. Memories were not love and Daenerys was still here in her arms. Laying over her, Sansa deepened the kiss until she could tell that Daenerys was breathless.

She pulled back and said in a hoarse voice, “I am happy for you but you have to know that I wish it was me that gave you this child, that I was the one you would be sharing your life with, that you would be mine and mine alone.”

Panting hard, Daenerys stared up at Sansa as she spoke, her eyes widening at every word, until she felt her heart break. It was a wish that she had dared not think for herself since she had left Winterfell but having heard it from Sansa’s lips, she knew she wanted it, too. Tears welled in her eyes and the love she felt for Sansa almost made her repeat those things she’d said the night before she left, when she’d asked Sansa to come with her. But it was only a wish; Sansa wasn’t really saying she was willing to do this. Sansa was Queen in the North and could not come live with her in King’s Landing. Daenerys swallowed her ache and blinked back her tears.

Sansa didn’t know what she had expected when she foolishly said those things. Daenerys was going to wed Jon and Sansa had to stay here and rule the North. And while the look Daenerys gave her was full of love, she wasn’t opening her mouth to wish for the same. Sansa closed her eyes, trying to bury this wish down, this urge to make tonight more than it was. This was goodbye, not a beginning. She felt the sting in her eyes but she shook her head. It wasn’t time to cry yet, not when they still had a few more hours together.

*::::*

Sansa slowly opened her eyes and smiled at the woman sleeping next to her, for the moment able to ignore the ache in her heart. Despite their best efforts, they had not been able to stay awake the whole night but Sansa enjoyed watching Daenerys sleep so she didn’t try to wake her when exhaustion finally overtook her. Looking at where the flame was on the candle on the nightstand, Sansa knew it would be another hour before dawn. She imagined the bustle of servants, the castle in its beginning stirs to life in a new day, the tasks she herself needed to get done. They were out of time.

She lifted a finger to trace a line down Daenerys’s shoulder over her arm. At the touch, Daenerys opened her eyes.

“Good morning,” whispered Sansa.

Daenerys groaned and turned over.

Sansa smiled sadly and sat up. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she took a deep breath and said, “If you wish to leave at dawn, then I should go back to my rooms now and dress. You should eat what’s left of the food on the table and once you are dressed, meet me in my bedchamber where we can fix each other’s hair and say goodbye.”

At those words, Daenerys opened her eyes again and reached a hand to touch Sansa’s arm. She wasn’t ready for this, this was too jarring. Daenerys admired the curve of Sansa’s side, the tall line of her back, the scars that showed how strong she was. She wanted a softer parting from this bed.

Squeezing her arm gently, Daenerys said, “I can leave a little bit after dawn.”

Sansa slowly turned her head to look down at Daenerys lying on her pillow. Daenerys’s small smile hinted at what she wanted to do in the meantime. Relief filled Sansa and she threw herself at her, pinning Daenerys’s hands beside her head and Sansa saw her eyes darken in arousal.

“Just a bit?” Sansa asked, leaning forward to bite Daenerys’s chin.

“Another hour?” Daenerys breathed.

“Mmm, better,” murmured Sansa, biting down Daenerys’s neck, thankful that they could postpone goodbye for a little while longer.

Later, when they could postpone it no longer, Sansa put on her nightgown and robe and walked out of the room. Grey Worm and Brienne were there and while Brienne held her usual neutral expression, Sansa thought she could see sympathy in her eyes. Sansa told her to knock on Daenerys’s door if she didn’t emerge within the hour, then she hurried up the stair to her rooms so that she could release the sobs she’d been holding back since she woke up.

*::::*

When it was time, Daenerys and Sansa walked out of the Keep together to the yard. It wasn’t a large gathering of onlookers but the ones who were there seemed happy to see Daenerys and wished her well. Daenerys greeted the ones she knew and the ones she didn’t. She nodded to Bran, Maester Wolkan and Jaime Lannister. Brienne was there, too, and gave Sansa a supporting nod. A servant handed a small bag of provisions to Grey Worm then rushed away. He strapped it to his back, next to the bag holding the dress.

Sansa and Daenerys walked out through the gate. Drogon was already waiting. With soldiers and others watching, Sansa risked an embrace but nothing more.

_“Are you sure we won’t see each other again? I do have willpower, you know,” Sansa said dreamily, using her fingers to draw abstract shapes along Daenerys’s back._

_“I wouldn’t be able to resist you, Sansa,” Daenerys replied, turning over onto her back and placing a hand on Sansa’s cheek. _

_All Sansa heard was that Daenerys needed to stay away so her feelings for her would dull, so she could devote herself fully to Jon. She knew those thoughts were fueled by bitterness and jealousy but she couldn’t help it._

_Sansa continued her finger tracing, this time around Daenerys’s abdomen; there was no obvious swelling but Sansa tried to picture what she would look like, to picture all the things she would miss. Instead of letting the tears come, Sansa leaned forward to press tender kisses against Daenerys’s belly, whispering little missives and blessings. When Sansa raised her eyes to look at Daenerys’s face, she saw such love and understanding. Slowly, she trailed kisses up her body until Daenerys grabbed her face and pulled her into a passionate kiss, as if she knew what Sansa had been thinking. When Daenerys began panting against her, Sansa lowered her mouth and bit hard on Daenerys’s breast, not caring about any marks she left behind. Daenerys was asking too much of her, to never see her again... It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. Her anger and despair grew and she thrust her fingers into Daenerys to make her feel it, to make her remember._

Daenerys pulled back and they silently stared at each other, ignoring the onlookers. She didn’t care what they thought of her but she would not cause any embarrassment for Sansa. As it was, she felt too empty to let tears fall anyway. Their goodbyes in their bedchambers had been the true ones. Daenerys stepped back, one hand still holding onto Sansa’s.

_Daenerys was on her back, raised up on her elbows, watching Sansa trail kisses up her leg. Slow, wet kisses. She was wearing the grey dress; Sansa had asked her to put it on and she happily did so. The lust it inspired in Sansa made her doubly happy. When Sansa’s kisses reached Daenerys’s inner thigh, Sansa began whispering, her gaze locked on Daenerys’s eyes._

_“I will see you again, Daenerys Stormborn. We are family. And we are Queens. We’ll have a coronation anniversary celebration since ours are so close together. On Dragonstone. Five years from now. Just for the Stark families. And we will talk and remain friends. Even if you don’t love me anymore. Five years. Promise me you’ll be there. Promise me.”_

_“I promise. I promise,” Daenerys breathed, throwing her head back and submitting to Sansa’s demand. It was the image of Sansa on Dragonstone that had weakened her. To have her there at her family’s seat. To see her gorgeous hair blowing in the sea air. _Five years should be long enough for Sansa and Tyrion to settle into their marriage,_ she thought. Sansa lowered her head to her center, Sansa’s hands holding her hips in place as Daenerys arched into her mouth, one of her hands fisting Sansa’s hair._

Daenerys finally let go of her hand. With a short nod, Sansa turned around and walked back through the gate and climbed the steps to watch from the wall. Turning to the soldiers standing there, she told them to leave her alone on the wall until after the Queen left. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Brienne join her on the wall but she kept her distance and Sansa decided to let her stay. Daenerys mounted Drogon, with Grey Worm carefully climbing on behind her. Their eyes met once more. Sansa could tell Drogon was eager to leave but Daenerys held him in check. Sansa squeezed a gloved hand into a fist, feeling the keepsake Daenerys left to her tucked inside.

_“You are a romantic, Sansa Stark,” Daenerys chuckled as she cut a small lock of hair that Sansa had requested. The cheer on her face was then replaced by sadness. They looked into each other’s eyes and Daenerys reached for Sansa’s hand. _

_As if making a vow, she said, “I will cherish the keepsake in my dress and here is my token in return, to always remember how much we meant to one another.”_

_Sansa walked to her dressing table and sat down and tried not to think about Daenerys using the past tense of ‘meant’. She tied one end of the lock of hair with string and quickly braided and tied off the other end. She put on her gloves and tucked it inside one of them. They were dressed. She stood up, walked over to Daenerys and said, “Tell me again.”_

_“I love you.”_

_Sansa took hold of Daenerys’s gloved hands and held them to her heart, closing her eyes in anguish._

_“Again.”_

_Daenerys leaned up and brushed her lips against Sansa’s._

_“I love you,” Daenerys repeated, pulling Sansa into another kiss. Then she backed her to the bed and lifted up her skirts._

_“There’s no time…”_

_“There’s time,” Daenerys said firmly. _

_Daenerys removed her gloves. Possessive. Angry. Pained. Desperate. Daenerys’s eyes shone brightly as she waited for Sansa to nod her consent. And she did._

_Sansa felt her hand thrust beneath her smallclothes. She bit down on Daenerys’s clothed shoulder to keep from crying out._

_“I am yours and you are mine. Say it.”_

_“I am yours and you are mine,” Sansa said between gasps. “More… please…”_

She didn’t see Daenerys mouth the command but Sansa saw Drogon start flapping his wings, getting ready to fly. For a moment Daenerys was out of her sight and her heart stopped. The ache inside grew larger. Drogon left the ground and they flew up in ever widening circles around Winterfell. Sansa kept her eyes towards Daenerys as much as she could, the rising sun making it hard at certain points to do so. But she wouldn’t look away for as long as they remained within her sight.

_Their arms locked around each other, squeezing each other tightly. _

_Daenerys whispered into Sansa’s ear, “Sansa, my Sansa, I love you so. If you change your mind about Dragonstone, I’ll understand.” It hurt Daenerys to say it but she had to so Sansa wouldn’t feel guilty when the time came and she found it unnecessary and inconvenient._

_“I’ll be there.”_

_Sansa buried her face into Daenerys’s neck, trying to cherish these promises of reunion. But anything could happen in five years. The possibility that this would be the last time she would get to hold Daenerys in her arms like this made her tremble in pain and sorrow. _

_She pulled her face out of Daenerys’s neck and whispered ‘Goodbye’ against Daenerys’s lips, who hungrily kissed her. Daenerys let go first, pulling out of their embrace, but not releasing Sansa’s hands._

_“This was real, Daenerys. My love is real. Don’t ever forget that.”_

_Daenerys nodded, holding back her tears and trying to hold on to Sansa’s words as they walked to Sansa’s bedchamber door and opened it._

Drogon took another pass.

Daenerys didn’t know how long she planned to fly around Winterfell. She just knew she couldn’t take her eyes off the woman below, getting smaller and smaller but her red hair still burning into her heart.

The ache spread through Sansa’s body, making it hard to breathe, but she stood straight and proud. She would not break down. She would be strong and unyielding, the Queen in the North that had won the heart of the Dragon Queen.

Another pass.

Daenerys knew she had to turn away. It was time. But her heart refused, screaming at her that her love was down below and that she had to go back. Drogon screeched out loud, knowing his mother’s struggle.

This time Sansa’s lips parted slightly and her hands reached for the wall in front of her and gripped it tightly. _It wasn’t a yes_. When she’d asked Daenerys if she would love Jon she hadn’t said yes.

_They’re not in love._

Sansa’s heartbeat quickened and her mind raced through their conversations. Daenerys was doing this for her, so she would be happy with Tyrion. Daenerys didn’t know; Sansa had lied about there being a possibility for love between her and Tyrion. A love in friendship, yes, but not like the love she felt for Daenerys. And now she was doing what Sansa had done, sacrificing her love so that the other could be happy.

Sansa mouthed the word, “Wait.”

Before they left for King’s Landing, Jon had offered to step aside, said other things, too, but she thought he was just trying to be kind. She didn’t want to hear, he’d wanted to tell her more but she’d interrupted. Daenerys said he had wanted her to come. He wanted it knowing what she and Daenerys would do. _If he supported this…_

“Wait,” Sansa said out loud. It wasn’t a shout. She was gasping for air now and tried to force a yell but she was panicked. The words of others flew through her mind.

_“…the freedom I enjoy to make my choices without regard to others’ expectations…”_

_“You have to make things happen for yourself.”_

_“…you don’t have to let duty kill your love…”_

_“…you are free to love her.”_

Five years would be too long. A lifetime without the love she wanted. Sansa saw Daenerys’s face turn away and knew Drogon would now be directed south. She turned to Brienne, stricken, and saw Brienne’s eyes widen. Instantly, Brienne turned towards Drogon and shouted.

“Wait!”

Brienne yelled once more and ran down the stair and out through the gate, yelling again, and Sansa followed, her eyes up in the air praying that Daenerys had heard. She avoided glancing at the various servants, smallfolk, and soldiers as she passed. Sansa wasn’t running but she may as well have been. The voice of her mother spoke in her mind, scolding her for giving them this image of her but Sansa didn’t care. She didn’t care because she would have her love. _My love, my love, please come back._ If she didn’t, Sansa would rush to the rookery and send a raven. But even with a raven Daenerys would have time to organize her arguments against Sansa before she had a chance to see her again and argue in person. She needed her back now while their goodbye and hurt was still fresh.

Daenerys’s eyes were filled with tears when she turned away but she held on, she wouldn’t break down until they were far away from Winterfell. Then she would allow herself to cry against Drogon’s back, at the love she had given up but which she would always feel. She already felt lost in grief when Grey Worm tapped her on the shoulder and she turned back to him. He pointed behind him towards the castle. She looked and the figures were tiny but she recognized Brienne running outside the gate, holding a hand up. Then red hair emerged behind her. Her heart stopped and without thinking, she guided Drogon into a turn, feeling a panic rise up within her. Something was wrong.

Sansa couldn’t help the sob that escaped her when she saw Drogon begin his turn. She slowed to a standstill and calmed herself, planning out her words. It would be quite the discussion between them but she was confident she could convince Daenerys. There would be jealousies and compromises; having to share themselves with husbands, the affection that grew between spouses as children were born would make it hard on all of them. As Queens of separate kingdoms, there would be long stretches of time spent apart and that would also change the fervor of their love. The struggle with wanting more than a visit or two per year would hurt them deeply. A secret love, never out in the open, never to live with each other the way they would want. Sansa took a sobering breath, recognizing that she had to be realistic with herself about this, about the emotional pain that lay ahead of them. It was one of the strongest arguments against this choice and she couldn’t discount it.

Dealing with rumors and her acrimonious lords would also be difficult, though they would give her trouble no matter what she did. Even if Sansa never spoke with Daenerys again she knew her lords would always find fault with any perceived favor in her decisions related to the south. Sansa was also a woman and they would always judge her for it. But fear had ruled her long enough. These weeks of longing and heartbreak at being without Daenerys had taught her she could not face a lifetime without her. Sansa should’ve known the moment she confessed her love that she wouldn’t be able to let her go. It had been what she was afraid of the last time Daenerys was here; that acknowledging or acting on how she felt would lead to this choice. But she did not feel any regret for it now. And how could she when their love made her feel more powerful and in control of her destiny than any crown ever could. She wanted this. She wanted Daenerys.

Then Sansa thought of Arya and Gendry. If they were to wed, one of their children could be the Stark heir Winterfell needed. Sansa wouldn’t have to wed and Tyrion would be free. Her heart burst with this possibility. She would speak with Arya as soon as she got to King’s Landing. There was a slight possibility that Arya would say no but she had a feeling that Arya’s prolonged presence in King’s Landing with Gendry meant there was a stronger possibility of a yes.

It was in that moment Sansa knew she wouldn’t wed no matter what Arya’s answer was. She would choose another heir if she had to. She could choose Falon. If Arya said no and Ned Stark’s line ended through Sansa, so be it. A trace of guilt flitted through Sansa’s heart at her selfishness and she hoped her ancestors would forgive her but she didn’t want to be wed to Tyrion, she didn’t want to bind herself to any man.

Sansa decided she wouldn’t ask Daenerys to not wed Jon. There were still many risks to consider and a marriage with Jon would also provide a cover for Daenerys’s relationship with her. Above all, Daenerys’s daughter had to be protected. But Sansa had to see Jon; she had to see it in his eyes that there were no doubts. She had a feeling he also had thoughts on how they would make this work, that there was more to his insistence that Daenerys come to her. Was this what he and Tyrion had been corresponding about?

As Drogon began to land in front of them, Sansa turned to Brienne and gave instructions to prepare two small bags, one for her and a bag for herself. They would be going to King’s Landing for the coronation and would return in a week so she would need one everyday dress and a formal one for the ceremony, perhaps the one she planned for her own coronation. Sansa would have to buy or borrow whatever else they needed once they got there. They would depart in an hour. Brienne hurried off. That should be enough time to win her argument, leave instructions for Bran to take charge while she was away, and prepare for the journey. Drogon was more imposing than ever and Sansa did not know if she could do this but she was more than competent on horseback, she had to be able to manage it. She had to for Daenerys.

After landing, Daenerys stared at Sansa in alarm, wondering what had happened. But she relaxed when she saw Sansa’s enigmatic smile yet she was still confused over why she’d been called back. Looking behind Sansa, she saw Brienne rushing inside through the gate and sudden understanding came to her. Her eyes opened wide in shock and she stared back at Sansa, those piercing eyes confirming Sansa’s intent. Daenerys took several deep breaths, struggling with how to respond. She felt overwhelmed by the possibilities and the dangers of this decision. But looking at her now, seeing Sansa’s resolve, Daenerys could only imagine how Sansa would seek to persuade her and she smiled at the thought.

Sansa’s skin tingled when she saw Daenerys’s smile, those eyes crinkling in that way that she adored. She couldn’t help the relieved laugh she released.

Descending off Drogon, with Grey Worm close behind, Daenerys slowly walked towards Sansa. She could almost hear the arguments Sansa was going to make. After all, Daenerys had made similar suggestions to Sansa the night before she left Winterfell back when she was desperate to hear what Sansa truly felt, when Sansa argued against every point she’d made. She hadn’t wanted to hope for this, had remained silent out of respect for Sansa’s sense of duty, trying to make it easier for her and Tyrion. Parting forever was preferable to suffering in a friendship that couldn’t be more. But now… now she felt hope grow like she had never felt it. And the fact that Sansa wanted to try meant everything.

But the risks, her jealousy… _How are we going to do this?_

She could see that Sansa was trying to erase the smile on her face but it only grew wider as Daenerys came closer. _Gods help me, I love her, _thought Daenerys, feeling the certainty settle deep in her heart that she would make any sacrifice necessary, she would endure every jealousy if it meant not giving each other up. Sansa was her home now. She would defy anyone that tried to take her away.

They were within arm’s reach when Daenerys spoke.

“You had more words to say to the Queen of the Six Kingdoms, your Grace?”

Sansa resisted the sharp intake of breath at this opening volley and turned her smile into a sly smirk. The assertion of title, the sway of her hips when she said ‘your Grace’. It was flirtation and power rolled into one.

She anticipated Daenerys to comment about Sansa’s prior adamant refusals to ever ride Drogon. Sansa would counter that by saying Daenerys should be familiar with a Queen’s prerogative to change her mind. Witty remarks, sensible arguments, more sparring, more touches, more sighs. Maybe she should’ve told Brienne two hours. She would have to change into riding wear after all. The hairs on the nape of her neck rose in excitement at the battle about to begin, a battle they would fight together as one, a battle that only two people in power and in love understood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who stuck it out with me, all the comments, kudos, subs, bookmarks, etc. Your interest and excitement kept this going and I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did. 
> 
> I know this is a very long final chapter that could’ve been broken up into two but I just liked seeing all of it together. I also didn’t want to rush each thing I wanted to see happen (conversation, love scene, goodbye/not goodbye) so yeah, lol.
> 
> This fic was intended to be a romance with enough tension and emotional turmoil that it was both frustrating and tragic, that really felt like they were falling in love in spite of themselves and what was expected of them. My focus was always the love story and not a show fix-it, which is why I didn’t spend too much time on everything else happening around them. I tried to balance the reality of the setting with my own romantic wishes for Sansa and Dany and in the end the love story, and whatever had the emotional impact I was looking for, took precedent.
> 
> In terms of the ending, I’ll admit it has a certain romantic sappiness but when I first thought of it way back when I couldn’t stop imagining how it would look on screen. I went back and forth on how hopeful I wanted it to be but this was always the general idea. I wanted to see that kind of urgent, romantic, melodramatic grand gesture, especially coming from the oh-so-reserved Sansa, so that’s what I wrote. For me, the overall conflict of this story lies mainly with Sansa’s fears needing to be overcome. Fear that Dany was Cersei, fear of these feelings, fear of giving up the North, fear of disaster at every turn. So Sansa had to be the one to make the final leap.
> 
> Given that the tone of the story was on the more sad and serious side, an open ending seemed more appropriate, something not exactly all tied up, and I’m truly sorry to those readers who wanted to see a full-on Sansa and Dany happy ever after. I do feel that given all the restraint each has shown at various points along the way, just the decision to go for it is huge and I like that moment of clarity as an ending. Sansa may not know exactly how they’re going to do it, but she’s at peace with this, she has no doubt in her mind that this is what she wants and I love that. It’s about as happy an open ending as I could make it and I tried to leave enough hope here to satisfy our desires for these two to end up together in one way or another. Not without cost but that’s life, right? I think the Sansa and Daenerys of my story will figure it out, especially after all this drama I put them through.
> 
> Thanks again, everyone. It was a fun ride.
> 
> Living Room Songs favorites: “Near Light”, “Tomorrow’s Song”, “This Place Is A Shelter”


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